Nothing but the Truth
by Timaelan
Summary: (Formerly known as Snapshot). Due to twists of fate Vegeta and Goku end up working as reporters for a nasty tabloid. When they're offered a golden reward to investigate the mysterious Heiress of Capsule Corp, they go hunting the truth about her with the hope of gaining everything they have ever wished for. They never planned that the truth could catch up with them instead.
1. Prologue, Fun doesn't harm

_Hi. There we go. New year, new story._

 _No specific warning. Random rating as usual (I guess there might be some coarse language somewhere for those who mind)._

 _The characters are all human. I couldn't pick a particular gender, so let's say it's "general" and you'll make your own mind about it._

 _Despite my hope, my English didn't turn great with the change of year so I needed help. **ShadowMajin** was fearless enough to agree to be my beta-reader. Thanks to him. Go read his story, he's a master in the art of twisting plot. _

_Enjoy._

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 **SNAPSHOT**

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 **Prologue - Fun doesn't harm**

"Always keep in mind, you're a photographer in the first place, no matter what people think of you"

Gohan nodded meekly at his father's speech. While speaking, Goku was focused on his camera as he was carefully fastening a huge lens on it. His gestures betrayed his obvious practice at the task. When he was done, the camera looked like an odd futuristic item. He kept manipulating the device to tune it further. He checked the result by aiming at bush a few steps away and seemed satisfied with his work.

He grinned at his son. "No one cares for a badly-framed, blurry picture in a crappy light, so you can't afford to be an amateur photographer. You have to be quick and self-assured when it's time to shoot," he added while closing the car's trunk with a tug.

He stuffed his camera in his fluffy jacket and zipped it up. Gohan blinked at his father's grotesque silhouette with the huge equipment stuck under the fabric. "Won't anyone guess you're planning to snap photos?" he asked in puzzlement.

Goku chuckled. "Nah. No one would even pay attention to me. That's a very important rule: always going unnoticed. Well, tonight your presence will help me somewhat. Who would suspect a quiet father wandering around with his boy on a nice summer night?"

Gohan felt awkward at the statement. He knew his mother would be mad if she ever learned about his Dad dragging him along tonight.

"Don't worry, Gohan. Everything's gonna be alright. It's fun, you'll see, and don't forget your Dad's the best," Goku reassured.

"I know. I was just thinking about Mum. You know how much she hates your job."

Goku laughed. "I know, but don't worry. We'll do no harm, Gohan, you know that, don't you?"

"I know. You only reveal the truth, no matter what," the boy answered with an uncertain smile.

Goku gave a forceful nod and looked proudly down at his son. "You got it, boy. Now, let's go, I wouldn't like to miss my chance." With that he grabbed the child's hand and strode away from the car.

Gohan followed him. The kid wasn't used to spending much time with his father especially since the divorce. Goku had always been busy with his job, even before the separation, and now the boy also suspected his mother was trying to keep him somehow at a distance. So, no matter how disapproving Chichi could be about what they were going to do, Gohan was glad to be involved.

They walked about three blocks and ended up standing at the entrance of a public park. Rather expectedly, the place was closed because of the late hour but Goku kept going along the grating until they found themselves in a shadowed area of the deserted street.

"From now on, we'll only whisper," he mumbled to his boy, pressing his index finger on his lips.

Then he scrutinized the top of the gate and jumped high enough to grab its edge. He climbed up effortlessly thanks to the bars until he was sitting astride the railings. He looked down at Gohan. The boy had a sheepish look, but his father reassured him.

"Don't worry, Gohan. There's nothing to fear. Trust me, I've done it a thousand time," he comforted him while stretching his hand out to him.

Gohan swallowed hard and took a deep breath before grasping his father's hand and climbing the gate. The metallic bars were somewhat slippery and his feet skid down at first, but Goku's strong grip was enough to hoist him up. Gohan sat next to his father with unease.

"Watch out that your clothes don't get stuck anywhere when you jump down," Goku whispered.

The boy contemplated the gap below. It was more than two meters high and he hadn't planned to "jump down" anytime soon, but he didn't dare objecting. When his father landed on the ground, a muffled thump echoed along with the noise of bushes getting stamped by the man's weight. The knot in the boy's guts hardened as the sound reminded him just how high he was sitting.

"Gohan! Hey, Gohan! Don't be afraid," his father's soothing voice murmured. "I'll catch you in flight, I'm just under you."

Gohan could hardly see him since there were no light at all and Goku was wearing dark clothes. He could just make out the man's figure at the foot of the gate. Yet, the boy was willing to show his father he was no longer a whimpering brat. He'd just turned 10 after all.

He closed his eyes and jumped. He felt his father's muscular arms around his waist and both of them stumbled down because of the momentum. Gohan was relieved to find out he hadn't been harmed in the process.

Goku made a small chuckle and struggled to his feet while dusting himself. He took back the camera he had rested further in the grass and wrapped its strap around his neck. He stuffed the device back underneath his jacket.

"We have to cross the whole park. The back of it looks out onto the target's garden," Goku explained in a low voice.

"Won't you tell me who the target is?" Gohan asked in obvious curiosity.

Goku winked at him with a broad grin. "Just follow me and you'll see. It might be fun."

Gohan did as he was told. He figured out his Dad knew exactly where they were heading. Goku had no second thought about which way to walk all by staying in dark area. He looked like a soldier sneaking in the enemy's camp. Gohan's heart was hammering in fear of being caught, but at the same time, the boy had to admit he felt a great excitement. His father's presence told him nothing bad could happen. It was all about a fun game.

At some point they reached a huge tree Gohan deemed to be an oak. A gate was proclaiming the limit of the park a few meters from its trunk, but some of the branches spread out over it.

Goku pointed his index finger upward to let his son know they would have to climb into the tree. He started the climb and Gohan followed wordlessly. The ascension wasn't very easy, but it was nothing near impossible when one didn't mind a few scratches. Although his mother insisted on him being a nerdy schoolboy, Gohan had always enjoyed physical effort. Thanks to his strong persistence, and maybe due to the guilt Chichi had felt after the divorce, she'd agreed that he would keep training at the town's dojo twice a week. He'd never thought he would be rewarded in such a situation, but he was proud to show his father he could do it without help.

When they reached a certain height, Goku crawled carefully on a branch stretching out to the gate. Gohan followed him, but after a while the branch became too thin to support them both and Goku beckoned to him to stop.

Gohan paused and waited for the next instruction. Yet, his father just sat there scrutinizing the darkness over the gate. It lasted a moment until he unzipped his jacket and took his camera out. "Now, this is the boring part. We'll have to wait. Try not to move and keep quiet," he whispered to his son.

Gohan frowned as he was wondering what they should be waiting for. Although they had a good sight of the area over the gate of the parks, all they could see was some vegetation plunged into a quiet twilight. Besides, they were so far from the target's supposed garden that it was unlikely that his father would be able to take any valuable picture at such distance.

However, he knew his father enough to trust him and he kept his opinion to himself.

Doing as he was told, Gohan's butt became numb very quickly. The place was really uncomfortable and the fact it was forbidden to move didn't help. Everything was dark and still, except for his father's quiet silhouette next to him.

The boy was wondering if Goku really knew what he was doing or if all this would end up being useless and disappointing. Just as he was mulling over this thought, bright lights were turned on all of a sudden. Gohan blinked and peered at the area over the gate of the park. He found out his father had been right. It was a nice, neat garden. From where Gohan was sitting, it looked big and countless lanterns were hanging up and there, flooding the place with a yellowish light.

Goku hadn't moved so far, but he was now busy with his camera and Gohan could hear weak clicks as he was handling the device.

A dog barked in the distance and they heard voices discussing like a faraway mumbling. Gohan held his breath as the idea that someone could find out they were perched in that tree surged in his mind instantly.

They were too far to see neither the dog nor the people though. After a while, the boy heard the sound of steps and a man's voice. At first, Gohan couldn't understand what he was saying, but his voice was the only one echoing as if he was talking alone or maybe on the phone. As the guy was coming closer, his words made their way to kid's ears. "Such a good dog. You were in a hurry, weren't you? Daddy has to apology for being so late tonight. He had serious matters to handle, but now he's here. How was your day, Buu?"

A bark answered his question. Gohan's lips twitched in a smile as he understood the walker was talking nonsense to his dog. The boy tried to lean closer in order to see him, but his view was shielded by his father and the vegetation. He could hardly make out a silhouette among the branches' outlines.

Goku's camera clicked in quick succession. The guy kept speaking to his dog. The animal was answering with joyful barks, which caused his owner's loud laugh.

Gohan frowned as this laughter sounded familiar to him, but he still couldn't put his finger on it.

The show kept going on for a good ten minutes until the man walked away with his dog, leaving a silent place behind. Only then, Goku turned to his son with a bright beam and put his thumb up letting the boy know that they were done and successful.

Getting the hint, Gohan started to climb down. He was in a hurry to see the result of his father's job, but Goku didn't take time to show him anything until they were out of the park and back to the car. Gohan felt incredibly excited.

As they were sitting side by side in the car, Goku at last took his camera out of his jacket. Gohan pointed out that his father's eyes were gleaming in glee.

"Let's see… did you recognize the voice?" he asked his son.

"Sort of. It reminded me of someone, but I still don't know"

Goku had a satisfied chuckle as he sorted out the pictures on his screen. Then he showed the device to his son.

Gohan's eyebrows arched in awe at first but then, he burst out of laugher. There he was, the great Hercule Satan walking his dog while wearing ridiculous pajamas made of a dotted pink flannelette along with glittering pushers. His face was lit up with the cheesiest smile ever as he was watching lovingly his dog pee on a bush. Truth to be told, it was far from the manly picture the strongest man of the World liked to show.

Goku was eyeing his son with jubilation as the child's laugh was filling him both with pride and happiness. "Ain't that fun?"

"Dad, I think you have the funnest job in the world. I don't know why Mum is so fussy about it," Gohan sighed.

"I'm glad you like it. Furthermore, this is gonna please the readers, believe me," Goku stated as he turned the camera off.

"You think your paper will publish it?" Gohan asked with a smile still on his face.

"I don't think so, I'm sure of it. I can even tell you they won't miss it," Goku answered while starting the car.

As they were driving through the floodlit streets of the town, Gohan felt a slight unease. Truth was he'd always liked Satan. Sure, the guy was a bragging big-mouth, but he was a Champion nonetheless. A lot of Gohan's friends at the dojo regarded him as a great star and an example and if Gohan hadn't been a Champion's son himself, he would certainly have been part of Satan's admirers as well. Now, the more he thought about the picture his Dad had just taken, the more it bothered him. "Dad, are you sure this is right to publish such a picture of Satan? I mean, won't it change the way people look at him somehow?" he asked with a hesitant voice.

"Maybe but they'll just look at him for what he really is, don't you think?" Goku replied with a shrug, "Besides, weren't you the first to laugh over that picture? It's just fun, boy. Fun doesn't harm."

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	2. 1 Snapshot

_Beta: **ShadowMajin** as well._

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 **Chapter 1 - Snapshot**

Snapshot was a paper everyone had heard of at least once in their life. It was renowned for its inflammatory and subversive content. Its motto was about "revealing the truth, no matter what" and each issue was a scandal. Thus, the paper was regularly sued and the trials often ended being even more scandalous than the articles themselves. Although everyone would deny buying such a piece of shit, Snapshot happened to be indeed the most profitable publication and the highest circulation in the country.

A secret of its success was that the editorial staff would never spare anyone, as its motto claimed, "no matter what". Should it be about politicians, show-business people, sportsmen, religious leaders, artists, or even other journalists, Snapshot's people would shrink from no subject as long as it was spicy enough.

Over the years, the paper had ruined countless reputations, causing the fall of many personalities and its dreadful fame had gotten to the point where the mere mention of its name was putting any public being in a cold sweat.

Snapshot's Chief Editor was the perfect mirror of this renown. His name was Pilaf and he was an ugly man gifted with the look of being unsuspected harmfulness. He was unusually short, completely bald and his skin had a weird unnatural color due to some sickness no one was allowed to ask about.

Pilaf's life could be summed up in two words,:might and nuisance. No one could ever please him. He had no wife, no relatives, and he could be found at work night and day. His biggest dream was to receive an official decoration for being the most cunning Businessman in the country, and although it might not happen any time soon, it was still a strongly entrenched obsession everyone around him had to deal with.

When Goku entered his office, Pilaf was sitting in his huge leather armchair behind his desk. He always needed to perch himself on a pile of cozy cushions to keep up with the desk's height and it often resulted in him sinking down each time he got too angry and restless.

Seeing him sitting at a decent level with a smile across his face, Goku deemed his boss was in a cheerful mood today. Pilaf's beam widened when his eyes met his best reporter coming in.

"Goku, here you are. Right on time, come in," the short guy exclaimed cheerfully.

Goku stepped hesitantly closer as he eyed a man sitting opposite from his boss with a glass in his hand. Vegeta was working for Pilaf as a reporter as well. He was good at getting unexpected pictures and news. Very good. Not as good as Goku though - Goku had always been the best – but if Goku was to leave the job, Vegeta would certainly be the best of all.

Vegeta glared back at Goku with a disregarding frown. He had always considered Goku as a rival and he hated him. Goku knew it and he loved the situation. He liked Vegeta and his endless attempts to beat him. Goku would never let this happen of course, but Vegeta was still a good spice in his routine.

Now having the guy sitting quietly in Pilaf's office was something unusual. If there was one person Vegeta hated more than Goku, it was Pilaf. He was only working for the blue dwarf because, first, Pilaf was the Chief Editor that would pay the best wages in the whole country and second, Pilaf was never afraid to publish articles about anything. Pilaf was a nasty asshole, but he was no chicken and it was somehow something that mattered more than the rest to Vegeta.

However, the journalist would never linger in Pilaf's company if it wasn't for a good reason. Considering he was sitting comfortable and sipping a drink here, Goku understood something was on.

He gave Vegeta a gentle smile all if only to be cordial. There was no sense in making this a hostile situation. Then, he turned back to Pilaf. "I got something for you," he said upon throwing his SD card to the tiny man, "but I can come back later."

Pilaf caught the small item in flight and inserted it in a device settled on his desk. "Gosh, no, why. Just take a seat and let's see what it's about. I always like your surprise, Goku."

The Chief Editor didn't wait for a reply and turned the device on. Satan's pictures with his girly pajamas were projected on the go on the wall and Pilaf blurted a small yelp. He chuckled for a while. His small laugh didn't sound like something kind and innocent. Pilaf's joy never sounded kind and innocent to say the least. It was rather like a gloomy, disturbing snort. "Funny. Shu might be able to write something cool about it. I love when you bring candies like this to me. What do you think Vegeta?"

Vegeta was contemplating the content of his glass with an unaffected face. "Entertaining," he replied in a flat voice.

Pilaf turned his device off. "I'll buy it," he claimed while looking up at Goku.

Goku nodded with a small smile. He'd had no doubt Pilaf would like to have this photo. Furthermore, Pilaf wouldn't bear with some of his competitor getting such a picture.

His boss pressed his back against the back of his armchair and gave a stern sigh. It was the obvious sign that the fun was over. Goku sat down in the armchair next to Vegeta and crossed casually his arms, waiting for his Chief Editor to speak.

"Vegeta is right though," Pilaf resumed, "this is entertaining, but it isn't worth much more. And I want more. Much, much, much more."

Goku raised an eyebrow. He'd been aware that his picture of Satan was certainly not something big. He'd taken it for Gohan in the first place. It had been an easy plan and a perfect opportunity to drag the kid along. Yet, what Pilaf was saying hinted he had something specific in mind.

"It's the paper's birthday in six months and I want to make a special issue. Something big. Something huge," the Chief Editor explained by uttering each word loud and clear.

He glanced at Goku then at Vegeta as if expecting some reaction. As both of them remained still and emotionless, Pilaf slammed violently his hand on his desk, which resulted in him sinking down a notch into the cushions. "You are my best reporters and I want the bests to do their best, you hear me?" he barked.

"Which means?" Vegeta growled impassively.

Pilaf had a scary smirk and turned to Goku. Instinctively, the reporter frowned in concern. The picture of the Ox King surged in his mind in a blink and his heart skipped a beat.

"I want something never done before. Something huge and unexpected. A special issue everyone will remember for decades," Pilaf mumbled with a worrying gleam in the eyes. He looked quite devilish with the wicked smirk twisting his face.

Goku had a thrill, but Vegeta just rested calmly his glass on the desk. "What's your idea?" Vegeta asked again in an unimpressed tone.

"Bulma Briefs", Pilaf hissed with jubilation.

Goku dropped himself against the backrest of his seat with a weary sigh. Yet, Pilaf kept going on. "As we all know, this woman's life is a mystery – True, Goku?"

"So true, boss," Goku grumbled.

"This can only mean filthy secrets. I know it, I can smell it. Why would she get into so much trouble to hide from us if it weren't for a very good reason? I want you both to find out what it's all about," Pilaf carried on. He was turning restlessly in his seat while exposing his theory about Bulma Briefs and, as things stood, his chin wasn't very far from the desk's height by now.

Goku rubbed his eyelids in annoyance. "Boss, we tried that already… You know…"

"You tried it!" Pilaf interrupted him in a roar, "Only you didn't go as far as you should have! And you failed!"

Goku bit his lips as he disliked to be reminded of his pathetic misfortune. It was even more painful while facing Vegeta's amused glance.

"Now I want you to team up and you will make it, no matter the cost," Pilaf ordered.

Vegeta frowned. "I don't need that loser in my way. I'll do it on my own," he stated.

Pilaf gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. He was clearly trying to calm down, but it didn't prevent himself from sinking even further below the edge of the desk. "Now, I have no time for kindergarten's fights. I don't give a fuck about how you make it, but you _will_ make it. Should you fail, you're fired and I'll make sure no other paper will hire you again even in the bleakest backwater of the country. Should you bring me something hot and spicy with smart pictures, I'll give each of you 2% of the issue's profits. You both claim to be the best, it's time to stop talking and start acting."

Vegeta and Goku both perked up. Pilaf would never share the paper's benefits with anyone. The idea itself sounded staggering. If this issue was as big as Pilaf though it would be, even 2% represented enough money to stop working for life and the two journalists were well-aware of it. Pilaf looked up at them right in the eyes and they understood he was dead serious.

The dwarf seemed to have a dreadful grudge against the Heiress. Goku wondered for an instant if his behavior had anything to do with the award Pilaf had coveted for months while it had eventually been granted to Bulma Briefs.

Pilaf ended up resting his chin on the desk as his level was just the right one. He gave them a deep frown. "She has to be hiding something nasty. We've checked her business, but it's clear as far as we could see. Focus on her personal life. No one knows about it and people like hot affairs. Just remember we have to reveal the truth, no matter what."

Vegeta huffed. "A piece of cake, I'll do it," he growled while getting up. As he headed to the door, his boss kept silent and locked his eyes on him. The Chief Editor didn't try to tell him anything else. Pilaf had said everything that needed to be known and Vegeta was smart enough to remember each word.

When the reporter was gone, Pilaf turned to Goku. The taller man was still slumped on his armchair trying to figure out how much 2% could change his life. "What's up, Goku? Do you intend to let him take the lead?"

Goku had a smile. "Vegeta will never take the lead, but I like having him believe he can do it. I was just…"

Pilaf squinted and Goku cleared his throat with unease. He thought he should take opportunity of this moment alone with his boss to tackle a personal concern with him, but he was aware it wasn't the best time. He rubbed his head in nervousness as he could sense the short man's eyes piercing through him.

"What about, huh, the Ox King?" the reporter finally asked hesitantly. He didn't like the mischievous smile of his boss at the question.

"I thought you wouldn't work on the Ox King, Goku," Pilaf stated with a slick voice.

"I won't. You know he's my – well, my wife's father," Goku resumed shyly.

"Huh? Aren't you divorced?" Pilaf objected with an annoyed frown.

"Still, Boss. He's my boy's grandfather so…"

"Anyway, you have much bigger plans than Ox King, now, don't you Goku?" Pilaf cut him off.

Goku froze and swallowed hard. Snapshot never went after the Ox King so far, but lately Pilaf had mentioned the name to Goku as someone deserving attention. The short man was a sly snake and he was privy about his reporter's bond with Gyumao. He'd likely offered the job to Goku on purpose with the hope that he would be able to provide some interesting details. Yet, for the first time in his professional life, Goku had found his personal limit and he'd refused to work on the topic. He'd never done something like this before.

Pilaf hadn't seemed offended. He'd acted as if he didn't mind and he'd moved on to some other subjects. However, Goku knew better and he dreaded the moment his boss' attention would focus back on his father-in-law. He wanted to know if Pilaf was about to start a hunt on Gyumao. "So, did you leave that idea you had about him?"

Pilaf pursed his lips in annoyance. "Goku, forget about that fat ass of a King living in an area most people wouldn't be able to locate on a map. Focus only on Bulma Briefs, will you?"

Pilaf's voice was tinged with contained irritation and Goku deemed wiser to stop asking as Pilaf wasn't far from sinking definitely down underneath the desk. "Okay, boss," he sighed simply by getting up.

Goku couldn't say what Pilaf's exact intentions about Gyumao were, but the Chief Editor's deep obsession for the Heiress seemed to be enough to keep his mind away from anyone else.

The journalist walked out the office and went straight to Mai's office. Mai was Pilaf's first assistant. She took care of everything with an iron hand. Should it be about money, judicial issues, shitty mess, she was able to fix anything. Every regular reporter was ordered to refer to her when anything turned wrong and, although Goku had never come to such extreme he knew about Mai's legendary efficiency each time she was called for help. She was also in charge of money and she was used to scrutinize any expense report with great care.

Her office was a small glassed room and it allowed Goku to enjoy the sight of her amazing rear end, even before he reached the door. As usual, she was wearing a tight stern suits and it fitted her body too well. Yet, as attractive as she looked, she had an icy nature. There was no hope in trying to make her laugh especially when the aim was to date her. As far as Goku knew, no one had ever been successful at inviting her for a drink, much less a full-on date. Getting her to bed sounded like science fiction.

As he found himself staring at her round posterior, Goku wondered for what felt like the thousandth time how desirable a forbidden fruit like Mai had become.

"I assume you saw the boss," her flat voice greeted him as he entered her office.

He was snapped out of his musings and diverted his gaze from her figure. She was standing at her fax machine while reading papers and she hadn't even laid an eye on him. He leaned against the door frame with a sigh.

"He buys my pictures," Goku stated.

She snorted. "What a surprise. 1,000," she replied with her look still glued to the papers.

"5,000," Goku retorted.

She looked up at him for the first time and stared at him through her thin glasses. "Is this another lame joke of yours?"

"I could sell it to another paper," Goku claimed quietly.

"Sure you could. 2,000," she offered with an unaffected voice.

"4,000," Goku insisted.

She rested her documents on her office and pulled a checkbook out of a drawer. As she was leaning down on the desk, Goku cocked his head in order to get a better view at her curves. Ignoring his gaze or unaware of it, she fulfilled a check wordlessly and ripped it from the book. She stretched the tiny paper out to him. "2,500 and it's still a crock," she stated in a cold tone.

Goku took the money and pocketed it with a grin. Mai pulled her glasses away and leaned back against her desk while crossing her arms. "Now, did he tell you about the birthday's issue?" she asked.

Goku rubbed his chin in weariness. "Yeah, Bulma Briefs."

"Right. Fucking. Bulma. Briefs. Vegeta and you. But let me tell you a thing. No matter what the boss said, I won't pay pharaonic expenses for that crap. Last time you investigated on her was a dead loss. This woman has cost so much money in the last years that her credits have run dry, you hear me?"

Goku pouted. "You're not making things easy for me."

"I don't give a damn. If you give out too much money, I won't pay you back and same goes for your buddy. Let him know," she spelled out for him.

Goku sighed and stepped out the office. "Vegeta and I won't team up anyway," he grumbled with a frown.

However, Mai would hardly care for this information. He could say she was pissed by Pilaf's senseless and expansive obsession about Bulma Briefs and nothing mattered to her other than controlling its financial damages. "And don't you dare send bills here! I'll take them back on your next wages!" she warned with a threatening voice.

Goku rolled his eyes while heading to the exit of the building.

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	3. 2 Nothing Personal

_Hey. Thanks for the support (Nancy, you're everywhere!)_

 _Thanks ShadowMajin for beta reading_

* * *

 **Chapter 2 – Nothing personal**

A very important rule of the job was to always keep personal feelings at bay. It had been the first lesson Goku had learned and he had taught it himself to others. He had even repeated it countless times to Vegeta. Should any reporter regard a target as a real person, or get emotionally involved, the job would end screwed up. This sacred law applied to Bulma Briefs as well.

Now, as he was contemplating the bottom of his glass with some dejection, Goku knew that he was about to do something that might bring Bulma Brief's case close from a personal matter. The thought had been looping in his brain for two days. However, unless giving up to Pilaf's request and leaving the glory and money to Vegeta, he had no other choice.

Half of a reporter's job consisted in gathering information from various methods and a huge amount of cleverness. Goku considered it was the most boring part of the work, but he also knew nothing was possible if he hadn't obtained the right tip at the right time. Thus, over the years, he'd been able to build a pretty large network of informants for himself and he was aware that it had been the main reason of his success so far. Goku worked with anonymous sources instead of seeking information by well-known informants that any of his competitors could question as well. That was why he was often the first to know things - when he wasn't the only one.

It was nothing hard for him. He had always been a cheerful, charismatic guy and he had never turned his back on anybody. In a way he regarded himself as a humanist. He was chasing famous people, but he paid attention to unknown people as well because in his eyes, every person was worth it.

That way, he had sympathized with an incredible bunch of people and his outstanding memory helped him remember almost all of them. Waiters in restaurant, mailmen, flower vendors, delivery men, bored nannies, secretaries, gardener, students - all of them had a name and a close or distant connection with someone famous. Goku had met them while on a hunt. Some of them liked money, others needed friendly times, or even some help in their daily lives and Goku was able to provide it all. In return, he knew exactly how and where to get information whenever he needed it. He even had some watchmen up in there. They cost some dough but thanks to them, Goku had often been the first one to catch a scoop.

Now, Bulma Briefs was something different. Unlike other public personalities this woman wouldn't just hide from unwanted reporters, she loved playing cat and mouse with them. She was able to spread false rumors and she had toyed more than once with Goku.

He remembered too well the whole month he'd spent tailing her a year ago. Gosh, he'd had a hard time. He'd needed to be constantly on his guard as she was able to leave her home in the middle of the night, without any warning, to take her jet halfway around the world. She was also able to leave a place without anyone knowing how she did it, and she had a lot of electronic gadgets guarding her privacy, such as a phone jammer, video cameras with face recognition that were able to spot Goku from afar and countless alarms and traps in her place.

Her close staff was reduced to three incorruptible people who would likely die for her and any other person at her service were most of time ignorant of her habits or plans.

Keeping track of her had been a real pain in the ass and although he'd failed at getting any valuable pictures of her, Goku had been proud to be at least able to keep an eye on her. He had thought that it would be a good introduction to know her habits a little better. That was until he realized that the bitch had been replaced by a lookalike the whole time. Goddammit, it had been so depressing that he had dropped the whole matter at once.

His only solace from his failure was that no one had ever been able to make it. Bulma Briefs's personal life remained a mystery.

She was a genius – Goku could vouch for that fact – and she was an incredible business women. Pretty, admired, and rich. Goku could hardly tell anything else about her and such poor portrait would fit tons of other targets as well. What Pilaf was demanding was far beyond this. He wanted to know about her intimacy and preferably about her love life – or sex life, who would make a distinction anyway? Yet, Goku hadn't the slightest clue about it.

He'd found out long ago that Bulma liked to spread false rumors on her own. Thus, crazy contradictory gossips had been launched about her. Some would say she was sex-addicted while others swore she was as cold and chaste as a nun. She was once claimed to be lesbian and lately she happened to be a romantic heroine mourning for a secret lost love. None of these rumors were reliable though and as far as Goku knew, she could be all at once.

He'd been in touch with countless people in the last two days and he knew nothing else. For the first time in his life, his own private informants had been of no use at all. He was now waiting for his last hope in this lousy bar and although he hated what he was going to do, he prayed for it to work out well.

A cheerful hand slapped his back all of a sudden. "Here we are, the great Goku is back to his old friends," a voice exclaimed.

Goku raised his head and turned his eyes to the short guy beside him. He hadn't changed the least over the years. His chubby face was wearing the same cocky smile and his messy hair looked as filthy as ever. Although the guy might be as rich as Pilaf himself, he would always take care to look as seedy as possible. "Hi, Yajirobe. I'm glad you came. Be my guest and have a drink," Goku replied.

"No doubt I'm your guest tonight," Yajirobe chuckled without paying any attention to Goku's half-hearted tone. "You must be damn desperate to remember me. I'll have some bourbon."

Goku waved at the barman to order the drink while the shorter man was climbing the stool next to him and making him comfortable "How's the family doing?" Yajirobe asked.

"Divorce. About two years ago. The kid lives with Chichi. But you knew that already, didn't you?" Goku answered with a weary voice.

"Heard about it but still, I never thought she would have the balls to kick you out," Yajirobe replied.

"Thanks for your sympathy. I hope you're fine as well," Goku resumed with an unaffected face.

"I am indeed. This year has been a good year and it seems today might be the best day of it, right my friend?"

Goku sighed. "It depends. I'm not sure you have what I need."

Yajirobe blurted a little laugh as he grabbed his glass. "Let me guess. Bulma Briefs."

Goku frowned at his words. His companion sent him a mischievous wink and it was enough to light a bulb in the journalist's head. "Vegeta," he hissed.

"He came to see me two days ago and he offered me big dough, you know," Yajirobe resumed with fake innocence in his voice.

"Did you tell him anything so far?"

"How could I? Do you think I'm God and I can deliver any valuable information about the Heiress at will? Even I have my limits," Yajirobe objected.

Goku snorted at that. He knew the guy too well. Yajirobe would never drag his ass up there to meet him if he had nothing to sell. The true question was whether he'd already sold it to Vegeta. Goku had endured too much of Yajirobe's liking for double-crossing. "So, I assume you found something out in two days," Goku stated with disbelief.

"It's all fresh and new, but yes I'm proud to say I have something," Yajirobe sniggered.

Goku scowled at the news. He'd been personally unable to get anything in a whole month - in a whole year to be honest because he'd never completely given up to the challenge of learning something about the heiress. "How did you do it?"

Yajirobe gave him an enigmatic stare. "I have my ways and – huh – I had a fucking stroke of luck too, but that's not what matters. What matters is that I have something people would kill for, believe me."

Goku gritted his teeth. Yajirobe was jubilate and Goku felt he was telling the truth. The bastard had discovered some gold by sheer luck. "Did you tell Vegeta already?" Goku asked again out of frustration.

Yajirobe shook his head. "Nah. I kept it for you my old friend."

"Cut it out," Goku spat as this guy was getting on his nerves. "What is it about?"

Yajirobe didn't react to Goku's fit of irritation. He was enjoying the situation with obvious satisfaction. "Maybe it's about a boyfriend. Or even more. Who knows?"

Goku bit his lips. He realized that deep down in his mind he had hoped that Yajirobe had nothing worth the sacrifice he would demand. A potential boyfriend _or even_ more - that was something deserving attention. "How much?" Goku mumbled while taking a sip of his own glass.

Yajirobe's smile fell from his face and he squinted at the taller man with disbelief. "C'mon Goku. Don't play smartass, you know I don't want money."

Goku closed his eyes for a while. Then, he slowly slid his car's keys over the counter to the shorter man. Yajirobe gazed at the item in awe. "Is this my jewel?"

"Unless you agree to be paid in good money like any normal dude," Goku growled.

Yajirobe took the keys with overdue care and contemplated them. "I never thought this day would come," he whispered.

Goku glared at him. The car whose keys were resting in that filthy bastard's hands was the last thing Goku still had left from his grandfather. It was a very rare classic car. His grandfather had cherished it and Goku had a lot of memories behind its wheel. By the time his grandfather had been alive, the car had been an ordinary piece of junk. As the old man had been too poor to buy a new one, he'd needed to repair it constantly. Yet, today it has become rather ironically a luxury car. Goku had received many tempting offer to sell it. Yajirobe had been one of the most insistent candidates, but Goku had never been willing to part from it. Even in the darkest time of his life, he'd refused to give up to this car. He had no other choice today despite his aching reluctance. "Take care of it, I'll get it back one day," he grumbled.

Yajirobe smirked and pocketed the keys. "May this thought comfort you. Amen."

Goku rubbed his eyelids as he needed to gather his thoughts and focused them back on work. "So, what's about that 'boyfriend or even more'?"

"There is a boyfriend. I'd say the affair had been going on for six months now," Yajirobe explained.

"Six months?" Goku exclaimed, "You must be kidding me? How can she hide this for six months? I've been watching her and –" He interrupted himself as he realized that he was just claiming his helplessness to know anything on his own.

"She's good. Too good for a fool like you," Yajirobe retorted.

Goku frowned. "I'm the best. You can't deny it, Yajirobe. I've always been the best in anything I've tried. You remember the time..."

Yajirobe shrugged. "Sure, Goku, you are the best, but she knows your face and she knows you even better than you know her and that's the point. She's no ordinary prey. An ordinary prey runs and hides while she sets traps for her hunters."

He was pointing out something Goku had found out in the cruelest manner and it resulted in him seething. "Screw her," he murmured, "who's the boyfriend?"

"A baseball player. Yamcha, ever heard of him?"

Goku repeated the name several time while searching his bottomless memory to pinpoint the person they were talking about. He could hardly picture the guy's face. He was a second-class baseball player competing for a spot on the town's team and the only thing coming to Goku's mind about him was that the guy liked his girls young, hot, and famous. If it hadn't been for this detail, Goku might as well have never heard about him. "I know who he is. Do you know how they met?"

Yajirobe raised his eyebrows. "Man, I bring you gold and you still want diamonds on top of it. You're the reporter so you'll have to work this out because I'm not going to do your job."

"How reliable is this?" Goku shot back.

Yajirobe gave him a bright beam. "It's 200% guaranteed. You know everything is home-made with me."

Goku nodded. Yajirobe was a nasty little bastard with many vices, but one thing was for sure when he said something was certain, he could be trusted. Goku would never have let go of his car if it hadn't been the case. "One last thing: you won't tell Vegeta, will you?" Goku asked with concern.

"You want me to keep him away? My, you're a bad loser. I'll do as you wish, but he offered me a lot of dough and I wouldn't want it to get wasted," Yajirobe muttered.

"How much?"

"5.000"

Goku chuckled. "Is this some sort of joke?"

Yet, Yajirobe was staring at him with an unruffled face. He shook his head in disapproval. "It's Bulma Briefs, dude."

Goku scowled and took an envelope out of his pocket. He counted the notes in it, took some of them out and gave the rest to Yajirobe. The short man turned restless at his gesture. He pocketed the money greedily. "You know, you guys should team up. It won't be a piece of cake," he sighed.

"Shut up. Take my car and stay out of this,"

In response, Yajirobe bid him farewell with a bow and left him. Goku closed his eyes as his guest exited the bar. He would definitely have to find a way to get his car back. His guts were twisted at the thought of Yajirobe driving it proudly and all this had been for Bulma Brief's sake. However, it seemed he'd gained a valuable tool for revenge and he was going to give it his all. He was going to take good care of the heiress even though he was aware the matter was maybe turning personal.

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	4. 3 The more you learn,

_Beta read by ShadowMajin._

* * *

 **Chapter 3, The more you learn, the less you know**

The lock of the door had hardly resisted a minute. Vegeta gave a peek over his shoulder to make sure nobody was around, but the place was completely still. There was obviously no watchman here or, at least, not at this hour of the night.

He pushed the door open and sneaked inside the small building. He found himself in a dark silent hallway. He turned his flashlight on and paced down the deserted corridor. He checked the first door on his way and found out it was giving access to a medical bay. He left the room behind without a second thought and resumed his journey to a big double door at the end of the corridor. He passed through it and entered a large tiled room.

He scrutinized the place for a moment. A row of windows allowed the moon to cast its glow on a row of lockers lined up against the opposite wall. That was exactly what he'd been looking for, the changing room.

Vegeta focused on the lockers. He walked slowly along them with the halo of his flashlight pausing on the names engraved on each door. He stopped at the locker labeled with Yamcha's name and ran the tips of his finger on the metallic door to gauge its strength. Then he wedged the handle of his flashlight between his teeth with the light pointing at the lock. With his hands free, he pulled out the very same pocket knife he had used to unlock the door of the building and handled the weak opening mechanism.

The whole place looked old and the equipment was the weary type. It didn't take long before the small closet cracked open. Yamcha was definitely a second-class player from a second-class team. The more he thought about it, the more Vegeta was reluctant to believe he could be the genius heiress' boyfriend. However, Yajirobe had said he was and, as unnerving as it stood, Yajirobe had never been proven wrong so far.

Vegeta really hoped Yajirobe's information had been as reliable as usual but it didn't mean the reporter would blindly trust him. The nasty rat had been surprisingly quick to deliver the information about the Heiress while she was supposed to be very fussy about protecting her privacy and it was a detail that made Vegeta suspicious. Like anyone working at Snapshot, he'd heard about Goku's misfortune at chasing her the year before. Mai had been loud enough about the waste of money. Furthermore, the look-alike's trick had stunned all the reporters. It was an old rope many public personalities used with the hope of shaking off insistent paparazzi. Such kind of tricks had definitely no chance to fool someone as experienced as Goku, and even admitting it would, it would never work out for a very long time. Yet, it seemed the Heiress had been able to scam Goku nevertheless and, not only that, she'd done it during several days. The moron wasn't even sure when she'd swapped places with the lookalike. Despite his contempt for Goku, Vegeta had to admit that what this woman did was quite a feat.

This was why he was questioning the value of Yajirobe's word and he needed to check it out. Considering Yajirobe had shamelessly asked 4000 zenis for his knowledge – which was double the normal price – the filthy bastard had better be right. However, if the baseball player happened to be the Heiress' boyfriend, the Bulma Briefs' matter might turn to be a piece of cake, just like Vegeta had claimed in Pilaf's office. That was good news.

Vegeta was a former soldier and it had very much forged his way of thinking. As a reporter, he was used to consider his target as an enemy he needed to reach. Now, if Bulma Briefs was to be a fortress he had to infiltrate, he couldn't act dumb and try to slink in head on through the main door. It was exactly what Goku had tried to do and the heiress' defense had happened to be much too strong to be pierced so easily. Vegeta had no intention to find himself as screwed up as Goku.

In a case like Bulma Briefs, Vegeta knew he should use a backdoor. There was always a backdoor to step into anyone's life. No matter if it was a habit, a place, or even a person, it was a way to draw the target out into the open and unless the heiress was a robot, her life had to bear with a backdoor. The Baseball Player could be that backdoor - if he was indeed her boyfriend, that is.

Vegeta held his breath while contemplating the content of the wide open locker. He stuck carefully his flashlight in the sleeve of his jacket and started exploring the small closet. First, he took out all the clothes and checked their pockets. He rested them on a bench nearby one by one. Then, he found shoes and set them aside as well along with uninteresting items such as a bottle of soap and a deodorant.

He rummaged further and stumbled on a handful of condoms and a comb. It seemed the baseball player was as boring as he looked. Vegeta let out an annoyed grunt and resumed his search. A sheaf of paper was cluttering the bottom of the locker.

He grabbed them and scrutinized each sheet with care. His heart raced when he realized they were pictures. His eyes darted from one to another in hope of finding the heiress on one of them, but she was nowhere to be seen. Instead the pictures were showing baseball players, very likely part of Yamcha's team or coworkers. One of the pictures caught the journalist's attention though. It was the photo of a girl wearing an appalling, tiny bikini with a cocky smile on her face. A name and a phone number were scribbled on the cliché. Miwa.

Vegeta pinched his lips. This could mean a lot or nothing at all. Maybe this was one of Yamcha's former girlfriends and the picture could have been lying here for ages. Maybe, she was Yamcha's real girlfriend and Yajirobe had been fooled by the heiress' game of spreading false rumors. This Miwa could also be a mere fangirl and Yamcha hadn't given a damn except for keeping something hot to look at. Or – and that was the most interesting theory – the baseball player was indeed Bulma Brief's boyfriend, but he wouldn't turn his nose on some extra-fun. Vegeta stuck his flashlight back between his teeth and stuffed his phone out of his pocket. He used it to snap a quick photo of the picture and took care to have the girl's name and number clear on it.

He looked further in the locker and stumbled across a magazine. It was an old issue of some financial paper and the heiress' picture was displayed on the cover. She was giving a static smile and, as a matter of fact, the photo looked very official. Vegeta froze at the sight. He had a second thought about the reason why Yamcha would have such magazine in his personal stuff. Considering he was certainly not the type to follow the financial news, the magazine might only be a way to keep a picture of Bulma Briefs. However, if he was her boyfriend, it didn't make sense for him to be content with a cold official picture she had granted to the economic press. He should have a more personal picture. Vegeta felt puzzled.

He left the paper behind and checked the rest of the locker's content. Coming to the conclusion that he would no longer find something interesting, he put everything back in order with great care. He locked the closet back and gave the place a last glance. He was willing to leave no hint of his visit. He kept in mind that the heiress was known as someone very watchful and Vegeta didn't want to have her on her guard if she heard about someone sneaking into her boyfriend's changing room by night.

The rain began to fall as he was walking away from the Stadium and back to his motorbike. He hardly paid any attention to the raging droplets soaking his hair little by little as he was mulling over the situation.

Vegeta was still hesitant about Yajirobe's theory. Truth was he had indeed no proof of any link between the heiress and the baseball player. Could it be that Yajirobe had been misled? Vegeta had to search further. He opened his bike's trunks and contemplated the jumble of papers he'd piled up in it. It was the baseball player's mail.

Vegeta had been able to get his address by hacking into the lame computer system of the Baseball Club. This Club had likely never considered that anyone could get interested in their files and they had no protection whatsoever. The operation had been dramatically easy even though Vegeta had no particular gift for computer.

So, as a good start for his investigation, Vegeta had dropped by Yamcha's apartment. He'd secretly hoped to stumble across the heiress all by knowing it wouldn't happen. The baseball player himself hadn't even been home. He lived in a modern neighborhood downtown where Vegeta nearly died out of boredom while waiting for him for an entire hour. Vegeta lacked patience. He needed action and he opted eventually to pay Yamcha's mailbox a little visit rather than to stay stupidly on a stakeout while the moron might as well never show up. Mail was actually a perfect source to learn a bit more about a client's habits and the first thing Vegeta could learn about Yamcha's habits was that picking up his mail wasn't part of them.

Vegeta huffed and closed the bike's trunks with a weary gesture. He was getting wet and he was getting hungry. It resulted in him getting in a bad mood. It was almost 11 PM and the day had been quite busy in comparison to the irking inaction he had to endure in the four previous days as he'd been waiting for any valuable information to come out.

He sat on his bike and started the engine in a mighty roar. He enjoyed the sound and the furious vibration for a while. Although he was born in luxury and wealth, his life as a soldier and renegade had made him a simple man. Safety, shelter, and food remained his main concerns and even though his job at Snapshot had earned him some good money, he was still used to content himself with the essentials. The only thing he would indulge in was motors. He loved their natural might and he loved even more controlling it. He also liked speed as it was one of the few things that would give him the adrenaline he missed since he'd stopped facing Death on a daily basis.

He drove across the city, rushing in and out the traffic with an experienced skill and headed to the district he was living in. It was nothing like Yamcha's clean neighborhood. It was rather the poorest part of the town, crowded with screwed up buildings that were falling apart. Some of them were so wretched that they reminded Vegeta of war. The inhabitant matched the building rather well too. Vegeta felt comfortable living here nevertheless. He'd settled there short after he'd arrived in West City about two years ago. At that time it had been out of necessity because he had no money to afford anything better, but even though he was now able to pay for a nice apartment downtown he had never considered moving out from this place.

He stopped his bike in a dirty streets lined up with condemned buildings. Their concrete walls were slowly crumbling off and they were covered with faded graffiti. A dingy bar was standing among that wretched neighborhood. There was no nice front store, no appealing sign, just a filthy showcase and a broken panel.

The light was on inside, meaning it was still open by now. Vegeta parked his bike in front of it. Some movement in the shadow let him know that a group of boys had gathered at the entrance of another building further across the street. Vegeta watched them warily for a while. Boys indeed,riffraff at worst. Deep down inside, the man couldn't help but feel some sympathy for that bunch of creepy bastards as they somehow reminded him of some long gone friends, but still, they were riffraff and it made him nervous.

He kept his eyes locked on them while emptying his bike's trunks from the messy stack of mails and he brought himself to enter the bar.

The place was bathed in a dim light. There were hardly a handful of customers. They were all males, grumbling rather than talking to each other. Vegeta ignored their suspicious peeks at him and headed to the bar. A very young man was standing behind the counter with a cigarette stuck between his lips. "Hi, Sen. It's been a while" the barman greeted with a sly mocking smile.

Vegeta didn't bother returning the smile. "Hi Goon, I left my girl just in front of the door, but we have restless crap over there," he grunted, clearly referring to his bike and the mob of snoopers standing further on the street.

The boy had a faint frown and he leaned forward on the counter to be able to give a glance at the bike standing outside the door. "No problem, I'll have someone watch her. Can I get you something?"

"I'm starving and I'd like a good beer too. Is your boss here?" Vegeta answered while unzipping his soaked parka.

"He'll be back soon. Take a seat. I'll bring you something." Goon answered by handing out a towel to his guest.

Vegeta grabbed the towel and mopped his neck. The goddam rain had flowed down through his collar. He contemplated the other customers. Four of them were sitting at a table and trying their best to keep as much wits as needed to play cards despite the high rate of alcohol flowing through their veins. Three other guys were sitting at a second table much further. The way they kept their voices low enough to be inaudible hinted that some nasty business was going on. Drunkards and schemers were the usual customers of the place.

Vegeta picked up a table close to the window in order to keep his girl in sight. He got rid of his jacket and wiped his hair with the towel while dropping the stack of mail he'd stolen in Yamcha's mailbox on the table. When his hair was more or less back to its original flame, he sat down with a weary sigh. Then, he grabbed the envelopes one by one and opened them to explore their contents.

He was done in less than ten minutes and blurted out an annoyed grunt. The result of his reading had been quite disappointing. Yamcha was living with a roommate named Puar, said roommate working in a kindergarten class while having a weird liking for gay porn. Yamcha had also enough debts for a lifetime. It seemed that the baseball club wasn't paying fairly enough to keep up with his extravagant lifestyle.

Vegeta scratched his head thoughtfully. He had hoped for something more. He craved for a significant proof that the baseball player was the heiress' boyfriend and the closer he looked at it, the more unlikely it sounded.

The guy was an obvious loser. Riddled with debts, living in the closet, and playing for the lamest baseball team of the country, he was nothing near a multimillionaire genius model's boyfriend. Was he? On the other hand, Vegeta had to admit that women had always been a mystery to him. He'd never known any of them very closely. His mother had died has he was very young, he'd had no sister and his life had never allowed him to have a thorough experience about females' way of thinking.

Anyway, all this left him with a bitter feeling creeping in his guts. The heiress might have screwed them over once again and he shall be back to square one. Too bad. The Baseball player would have been a perfect backdoor.

Vegeta pulled out a picture of Yamcha from his jacket's pocket and contemplated it one more time as if the photo could tell him more. The man had a terrible scar running down his forehead to his cheek. Vegeta huffed. He wasn't even handsome if you asked the reporter.

Vegeta was snatched from his depressing musing by Goon pushing the stack of mails aside. "Sorry, Sen, I need some space," he said while resting a loaded tray on the table. "Hey, you like baseball? I didn't know that." he resumed as his eyes met Yamcha's picture.

Vegeta looked up at him. "You know that guy on the photo?" he growled.

"Sure I do. Yamcha. Hell of a batsman. My sister is keen on him. She got pictures of him pinned all over her room," the young man explained, still unloading Vegeta's order from the tray to the table.

The reporter frowned at the statement. "Really? I thought this guy was gay," he replied casually.

"Gay?" the waiter exclaimed in bewilderment. "Well, who knows? But he's more the type to get a new girlfriend each week and he's good at picking up hot girls as far as I could see."

Vegeta fainted surprise. "Hot girls? Like who? Who was his latest date for example?"

The waiter stopped what he was doing and rested his fist on his hip while mulling over the question. "Huh, he'd been dating Miss Satan City last year. My sister had been mad for a whole week when she heard about it then – I think it's been awhile since last time he had been reported seeing anyone. The latest rumor is that he got a steady girlfriend by now but he wants to keep it secret. Now you may be right as well. Maybe, he's just gay or bisexual and the baseball team doesn't want people to know that the mysterious girlfriend is a boyfriend."

Vegeta gritted his teeth at this reply. The boy gave him a wide amused grin. "Thinking about it, this guy had always liked to share his girlfriends as if they were another notch on his bedpost, so why would he hide the current one?"

"You know how long it has been going on with that so-called girlfriend?" Vegeta cut off as he was hardly able to repress his annoyance.

The barman shrugged. "How should I know? I don't keep tracks of such bullshit and if it weren't for my sister getting mad each time he dates someone, I would know nothing about that guy's love life. Do you need anything else?"

Vegeta looked down at his plate with blank eyes. "Nothing you can give me," he grunted in dejection.

He was starving and he started wolfing down his meal with gusto. His brain needed to be fed as much as his stomach. All by chewing his food, he tried to connect the hints he had collected. Yamcha was nothing near the boyfriend anyone would picture for Bulma Briefs. He was poor, he wasn't very attractive and he wasn't skilled. He was even maybe gay. On the other hand, Yajirobe had claimed him to be her boyfriend and as a matter of fact, Yamcha kept a picture of the heiress in his locker. Furthermore, Yajirobe had said he'd been dating Bulma Briefs for about six months and it fitted Goon's explanation about the Baseball Player having a mysterious girlfriend for awhile. Vegeta had headache. Either the heiress had tricked them once again with a false rumor, or women were definitely the greatest enigma on Earth.

"What is my Sen worrying about?" a loud voice asked in a guttural language. Vegeta recognized it as Saiyajin. Looking up, he found a bulky bald man sitting on a chair opposite from him with a wide beam across his face.

"Nappa. It's been a while," Vegeta greeted him back in Saiyajin.

"You look annoyed. I mean more than usual," Nappa resumed with a chuckle. "Goon, get us some more beer! His Highness needs it, it seemed."

Vegeta focused back on his meal and took another mouthful without further comment.

"So, what are you up to? You really look pissed," Nappa insisted returning to his native language.

"Nothing important. Work," Vegeta mumbled with a shrug without even bothering looking up at him.

"Is that your actual work?" Nappa asked in disbelief while holding Yamcha's picture.

This time, Vegeta froze and stopped eating. "Not exactly but it's part of it. You know that guy?"

Nappa burst out of laugher. Vegeta rested his fork once and for all and pushed his plate aside. He waited with a stoic expression for the bigger man to calm down.

"That freak? Vegeta, come on. This isn't serious. Man, you were responsible for Frieza's fall. Now you stooped so low as to track down such a loser? What for? He's hardly able to play baseball properly, who would give a damn about him except for hormonal teenage girls?" Nappa resumed by rubbing the tears out of his eyes.

The reporter crossed his arms and stared calmly at Nappa. His fellow countryman was deep involved into nasty business and if he knew the baseball player, it meant that Yamcha might have some guilty habits. Furthermore this theory would match rather well the fact that he was in debts up to his neck.

"How come you know him?" Vegeta asked coldly when Nappa got his breath back.

Nappa grabbed a glass of beer on the tray as Goon showed up with his order. He took a sip while eying the young man in suspicion and waited silently for him to be gone although he knew Goon didn't understand Saiyajin. Then, he leaned forward closer to Vegeta with a smirk. "Your client can't stop himself from doing things he can't afford."

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	5. 4 See through

_Thanks for the support. **ShadowMajin** was kind enough to beta read this chapter._

* * *

 **Chapter 4, See through**

Goku had been watching the ceiling for at least twenty minutes, his mind blank and numb. There was hardly any sound in the sleeping house, only the rain tapping the windowpane of the bedroom and Chichi's faint breathing next to him.

He turned his eyes to her. Her hair was unleashed and the black strands spread on the white sheets were softly shining in the twilight. God, he loved when she let her hair free and he never understood why she was so concerned about fastening it tightly in some cramped hairstyle. There were so many things he didn't understand about her, and yet he could never have enough of her. Even now that they were divorced, he would show up at her place and end up sleeping in her bed on a regular basis. Rather ironically he realized he might spend more time with her now than when they were married.

She was like a necessary haven on his journey. Sure, she didn't seem very happy when he came and visited her. Most of the time, she would frown and glare at him. She liked to remind him they were divorced and he was no longer supposed to consider her place as his, but she always caved in. She let him in, she even cooked for him – he had noted that she always had extra food for him. Then, she would let him slip into her bed. In the morning, she would complain that she wished to be rid of him and sometimes she would even cry. Knowing her, he didn't take her fits of temper very seriously. She had always been acting that way. Even at the time they were married, she had often welcomed him with a frown when he came home and she had often cried over their disappointing marriage. The only difference was that she was now crying over a disappointing divorce.

Goku wouldn't be able to explain why he was so deeply attached to Chichi. He was pretty successful with women in general and he had many opportunities to get much nicer company. Yet, for some reasons, nicer company would never keep his attention very long. He was used to Chichi's bitching nature and he missed her when she was away too long. It was somehow like a curse in his life.

It all began like a fairy tale. Chichi was a Princess and she'd fallen in love with him, a simple boy living in the Mountain. However, instead of an happy ending their story had turned into the harshest slap life had ever given to him.

Although she was a King's daughter, Chichi had never been a typical princess. When she was younger, she had a liking for sparring and she insisted on attending public school with normal kids. That's how she met Goku when they were kids and they started dating in high school. He'd been so proud to be the one then. When they turned eighteen, they decided to get married. It had sounded like the most exciting adventure and the most outstanding idea in the world, especially since Chichi's father wouldn't let them live together as long as they wouldn't be husband and wife.

At that time, Goku had considered marriage like an endless feast where he would be served at will with his favorite dishes. He would have whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it and as much as he'd like.

Chichi's father hadn't been very keen on the idea and he'd warned Goku that marrying his daughter meant dealing with her daily needs. Although the Ox King was pretty rich, he had clearly claimed that he wouldn't grant them any financial support. This had likely been his way to express his disapproval about their wedding, but since Goku's Grandfather had died a year earlier leaving some saving and a house, Goku had only regarded Gyumao's speech as a fair deal. Goku was able to take care of Chichi, so why not seal their love once and for all?

Goku had been a fool to think life was so simple. Handling a wife and building a family had happened to be far beyond his skills.

His Grandfather's money was quickly gone, especially when the house happened to need some serious fixing. Then, winter came. It had been a rough, harsh winter the likes only Mountains can make them. They had hardly enough wood to heat their place and Goku had to find a solution to get some more in order to avoid his newly bride to freeze completely. He sold the rabbits and the hen. Since it was nothing near enough, he also sold the little meadow where he used to play as a kid. Even then, the food they had stored couldn't make it and he had to go on a hunt every day. The winter was too cold to provide him interesting preys and he had a hard time catching them.

Six months after their wedding, Chichi was crying on a daily basis and mourning already over their disappointing marriage. She'd never stopped since then. They had some memorable fights as she was blaming him for getting no real job. Fact was there weren't many opportunities in the wild Mountain, let alone Goku hadn't learned any jobs. He had given a hand to the farmers for some physical works, but they wouldn't need him during the winter. He was getting hopeless, spending his whole day in the icy wind with the thin hope to catch some proper piece of meat and coming back home at night just to be welcomed with tears and reproaches.

At that time, he'd thought that things couldn't get any worse. They did though. Chichi was pregnant. It had been quite a shock to him. Of course, he'd known he would become a father one day and he'd liked the idea, but he had never figured out that it would come so quickly. Chichi and him had been sleeping together for years and he'd almost forgotten the natural consequence of such acting. Yet Chichi had stopped bothering about birth control since the wedding as she had deemed that no one would find it shameful if she became pregnant.

When they learned about her pregnancy, Chichi cried even louder and Goku remained speechless for several days. How could something like this happen to him? Happen to them? A year ago, they were carefree teenagers, getting wasted with their friends and having sex in the wood.

None of them ever mentioned the possibility of asking the Ox King for help though. When the winter gave way to spring, Goku loaded his grandfather's banger with everything he still had left including his wife and her rounded belly and he headed to anywhere else.

They stopped at the nearest town, a filthy place called Zuma. They sold everything they could – except for the car - and they gathered enough money to rent a room for two months. It meant nineteen-year old Goku had two months to find a job and make enough money to pay the third month. Chichi was willing to work as well, but her pregnancy wasn't doing too well and he wanted her to rest as much as possible, so he lied to her and told her he knew someone willing to hire him.

Thus, he'd found himself lost in the unfamiliar crowd of a town, clueless about what to do, but aware that he wasn't allowed to fail.

The only thing Goku was gifted for was fighting. His grandfather had taught him the basics and he had taken part in some local tournaments when he was younger. He'd always won and he'd felt that he was good at it. But then again, it had only been about local tournament and he wasn't sure if he would be able to compete with really strong guys.

Despite his reluctance and doubts, he went to the biggest Dojo of Zuma, which was indeed a humble club. That day was the day when luck decided at last to glance back at him. He happened to be able to beat every opponent the Dojo had to offer. He'd been quite bewildered about it to say the least. However, it had been enough to catch a manager's attention. That's when he met Yajirobe for the first time.

Yajirobe lent him some good money while Goku promised in return that he would never deal with any other manager. Thanks to that deal, he was able to have Chichi settled down in a true apartment even though not very classy. In the beginning, he had been hesitant to tell her where he got the money from and when she learned the truth, her usual frown showed up. Yet, she knew they hadn't much of a choice since they needed serious money to welcome their baby-to-be and she contented herself with Goku's promise to get a real job as soon as their situation would be somewhat steadier.

He did a few fight in Zuma and then in some other towns around. He was successful and Yajirobe was happy. Goku understood only much later that his so-called manager had swindled him the whole time, giving him very little from the money they'd been making. It didn't prevent Yajirobe from becoming more and more demanding, claiming Goku needed to fight more in order to get more money.

Goku was naïve enough to believe in that man and he accepted to fight in faraway places, which implied leaving Chichi by herself during several days. Goku didn't mind the fights. He loved them and he especially loved tournaments, but he was aware that Chichi didn't like that way of life. She was complaining about him leaving her alone while she was pregnant and bored to hell in their tiny apartment. It was again a time when she would cry every day.

Then one day, as Goku was back from winning an outstanding tournament, he found out Chichi wasn't there anymore. She was gone with the few clothes she still had left. Goku had become frantic. He'd felt as if his heart had stopped beating. He needed some time before he could gather enough wit and rush to the landlord living next door to ask about Chichi. The old man had blinked in bewilderment. "Your wife has been brought to the hospital very early this morning, I guess it was time for your kid," he explained.

Chichi had blamed him for being away while she was giving birth to their child, but her bad mood hadn't been enough to shadow the bliss Goku had felt the first time he saw his son. Gohan was everything. Even as a little pack of meat with his black hair standing on his head, he looked smart and beautiful. He was indeed smart and beautiful. His birth had been sunshine through the clouds of Goku's life. Even Chichi's bitching side seemed to melt away at his sight.

As if God himself had been touched by the little being, fate turned pretty kind to the family up from Gohan's birth. Some time later, Yajirobe had been successful to have Master Roshi acceptance to train Goku for the World Championship of Martial Art. Master Roshi was a legend in Martial Arts although he'd looked mostly like an old pervert when Goku first met him. The old man was reluctant to take any disciple on his tiny retired island, but he'd seen Goku on TV and he had agreed to teach him. It had been a great honor.

Goku kept an amazing memory of the six months he'd spent on the Turtle Island. Except for the fact he'd missed Gohan a lot and he had to endure Chichi's complaint and cries on the phone on a weekly basis, he could say this time had maybe been the most peaceful and cheerful in his life.

When he'd returned Goku had plain and simple won the World Championship. It was something of a glory day for him. Yajirobe passed out in shock and even Chichi had been jubilant. More than eight years later, Goku would still smile at the memory. It had been a great turn in the family's life.

They had moved to West City as Yajirobe deemed the World Champion couldn't live in such a bleak backwater like Zuma. Most of the Martial Artists were living in West City and so should Goku. Chichi and him didn't mind. West City was something more sophisticated than Zuma. West City also proved to be the town of sin and with some hindsight, Goku admitted he'd somehow lost there what was still left from his innocence.

He had everything. Money, fame, a great house, a wonderful son and even Chichi seemed to be happy for a while. She had definitively given up to her idea of working. She had to raise the kid, but even when Gohan was big enough to attend school, she liked it better taking care of their home and leading a quiet life. Goku suspected her to love playing respected wife of a world-famous Champion although truth was she hated fighting and the world of Martial Arts. She regarded all this as nothing serious and she couldn't stop reminding Goku that he had promised he would find a more respectable job.

Funny how, after all the years he'd spent with her, Goku was still unable to say what could make his wife happy. She'd been back to her bitchy mood some months after they had settled down in West City. Goku was working a lot. He was requested in many contests and shows and he had to train further in order to be able to keep his title in the next Championship that was to take place three years later.

In a way, his life wasn't very different from the hard days he had to spent in the snow on a hunt just to find a crying wife when back home at night. He could hardly save enough free time to spend good moments with his son. As the months flew by, the situation started to weigh heavy on his heart and things went gradually out of hands.

It all started with little things. Whenever he had a free night, he would spend it with other fighters, getting wasted in select bars instead of facing Chichi sulking face. At first, he thought it was just about unwinding, he would just come home as late as any other day and Chichi would believe he was somewhere at work – not that she cared so much anyway. The trouble was, she could smell the alcohol on him. So, he decided he would sleep in a hotel two blocks from his place every time he would drink too much. It didn't happen very often and each time he warned her in anticipation, making up a story and telling he would work in a faraway place and spent the night there.

He never knew if Chichi bought it. She never said much, just bitching as usual, saying he was working too much and he should study instead in order to get a real job and keep his word. Nothing new, Goku was doing no harm after all.

That was until the day he woke up next to a naked girl. Lucky for him she hadn't been the type to stick around for very long, but he'd felt dramatically bad nonetheless. He'd tried so hard not to get into such filthy situation. He'd literally cried over it as soon as the girl had left.

Ever since he'd become the World Champion, he'd had a hard time repressing his desire to yield into the lame temptation to pick a hot fan girl and take her to his bed. Yajirobe had mocked him for that. Goku had a natural liking for sex. It was nothing excessive compared to any normal person as far as he knew, but still it was a liking and since Gohan's birth Chichi hadn't been very responsive to his calls. He'd thought it was all about the birth and "women's matters" and she just needed time. After all, she'd lend her body to make him a wonderful son and he had no right to impose anything on her. Yet, her rejection in bed was becoming rather nagging. Furthermore, it hurt. Even when he had been back from his six-months training on the Turtle Island, horny like hell, she'd been pretty cold and he'd needed two days to coax her. In West City, their sexual life had turned to an endless desert with hardly some scrawny oasis up and there. Being torn between an iceberg at home and boiling hot volcanos at work, Goku was getting insane.

He could hardly remember the night with that girl. She was blond with red strands. Other than that, he wouldn't be able to recognize her. Yet, that wasn't the point. The point was he'd failed to his vow to have Chichi as his one and only lover. If she heard about it, it would ravage her, no doubt.

After that, he tried to spend more time at home and decided he would stop binging with his friends. However, he realized that he bothered Chichi by acting so. He stood constantly "in her way" as she liked to say. He'd taken once a day off especially for her. He'd intended to do things with her, beginning with some good sex in the morning. Instead of that, he found the bed deserted when he woke up. She'd left a note saying she had to drive Gohan to school and she had planned some shopping so she wouldn't be back until late afternoon. He'd felt hopeless and disappointed while eating the microwaved dish she'd left for him.

They didn't understand each other very well to say the least. Their relationship was nothing near the passion they had shared as teenager and Goku mourned that time deeply. He had the feeling that they had given up the fight at some point. He still cared for her, but he didn't know what he could do to please her. He'd never found out how she worked. The only thing he could say was that she seemed content with that routine of theirs. Him coming home late with a pack of dough, listening meekly to her reproaches while changing nothing in his way of acting, and asking for nothing in bed. He'd come to the conclusion that if it was her way to be happy, then so be it.

He left behind the guilt of having other girls while being careful about hiding it to his wife. He didn't do it to hurt her, he did it because – well, he needed it. Like some kind of hygiene. He would always pick up the type of girls with a look screaming "one night stand."

That's when he had been stupidly caught by that sneaky Lunch. He had freaked out. Just when he was entering a hotel's hallway with some promising girl, a simple hardly audible sound changed his life forever. Click. Click, click, click. He'd blinked in confusion and looked around. He'd found himself facing a woman with a camera in her hand. She was taking picture of him with his arm wrapped around the girl's shoulder. His first encounter with Lunch had been an electroshock.

He'd been so numb that he'd stood motionless, the girl still tightly pressed against him. Lunch had shot them for a while before looking up at him. She'd smirked at him. "Huh, your company doesn't look like Mrs Son at all, does she, Mr Champion?"

At that statement, Goku had been snatched out of his bewilderment and he had realized at last what was going on. He had dashed onto the photographer, but she was much quicker and she dodged his touch with a chuckle.

"Don't!" Goku exclaimed with a panic-stricken voice. Lunch froze and stared at him. Then she did something no reporter would ever do. Goku never understood why she did it. Was it about his pleading eyes and his helpless face? Was it that Lunch had been in a very romantic mood that night? No matter the reason, she threw a card with her name and number to him. "You'd like to buy those photos of you? They're for sale. Tell your bastard of a manager to call me."

He caught the card in flight while she sneaked outside the hallway in a blink.

Yajirobe had bought the pictures. Goku had been deeply ashamed to tell him his misfortune. He'd been even more mortified to know how much Lunch had been asking for them. However, this filthy deal had been mostly a great realization for him.

First, he'd been dumbfounded to find out that Yajirobe wasn't only a manager. Yajirobe was a businessman first and foremost and he would indulge into any underground business. Thinking about it, Goku ended up doubting Yajirobe hadn't been anyone's manager before they met in Zuma.

Not only that, but the pictures Lunch had taken showed Goku a lot more about himself. The more he watched them, the less he could believe they were picturing what he'd become. The setting of the hotel's hallway looked pretty much like a luxury brothel while the girl - well the girl was nothing near Chichi. Yet, the worst detail was still himself. There wasn't the slightest doubt in his eyes, he looked shameless and cocky as if he had good reasons to be proud to be there and to do what he was about to do. How could he? Did he stoop so low that it didn't matter anymore? And what if Gohan ever stumble across such inglorious picture of him? Goku couldn't believe all this was about him and yet he had to admit he was facing the truth.

The truth. Day after day, it became an obsession. Truth was that Yajirobe wasn't exactly a manager, but a nasty schemer swindling him, selling information to reporters and certainly dealing with other illegal crap. Truth was that Goku was growing tired of Martial Art because he couldn't find any fighter up to him since he'd defeated his only real challenger, the Demon King. Truth was that, except for the money, Goku was no longer the supporting husband he'd promised he would be and he was a distant father most of the time. Truth was his life was nothing near what he'd dreamed of.

His life had turned to some fake world and he'd needed Lunch's intervention to realize it. He found out that she was working quite ironically for a paper whose motto was to reveal the truth.

He'd nagged at Yajirobe to learn more about her - or about people doing the same work as her. How came he hadn't even noticed her whereas she'd been likely tailing him for a while? How came she could know exactly what hotel he would pick up this exact night with the girl? And how came she took an interest into him?

Yajirobe was pissed by his endless questioning and he gave him the address of a former famous reporter to let him know everything Goku should be aware of in order to avoid doing the same mistake again. Thus Goku met Korin.

Korin had retired, but as a reporter he'd belonged to a somewhat upper class than Lunch did. While she was an expert in chasing famous people from the entertainment industry, Korin had gone after politicians and businessmen and they were much rougher prey. Goku had listened to him for hours as he'd explained how he'd tracked them down to make scandals and scams plain for all to see.

Yet, even if Korin and Lunch had different targets, their aim had always been the same. It had always been for the truth to come out. Korin said it was all about "seeing things through the glaze" and Goku was hooked.

He would change his life. He would bring back a smile on Chichi's lips and a gleam of pride in her eyes. He would be a reporter and allow everyone to see things through the glaze.

Yajirobe had been mad when his Champion had claimed he would retire from Martial Arts six months before the next World tournament and he wouldn't even fight for his own title. The manager had yelled, begged, cried and when it had been obvious to him that Goku wouldn't change his mind, he'd just shrugged.

Chichi was on the moon when he told her about his decision. "Reporter" sounded so respectable in her mind, so highly intellectual. Goku had worried about his lack of skill for writing, but Korin had assured him he could content himself with leading investigations and snapping photos. Papers had a lot of gifted writers that were of no good in the field and they were able to write articles for him.

The old man had taught him the job for almost a year. The former reporter was baffled to find out Goku was very gifted especially when it was about hunting. Goku was completely thrilled by that part of the job.

He started his career with some petty subjects and he had a hard time selling them as a free-lance reporter. He quickly craved for more. He wanted to reveal an unsuspected truth, but that was easier said than done.

Goku needed to find a stunning topics. Something big. That's when he got interested into Lord Freezer. The man had such a dreadful fame, there were few doubts that he might have some nasty secrets needing to be dig up. Korin hadn't liked the idea. He'd deemed Goku was too novice at the job. However, Goku was fearless and he didn't listen to his teacher's advices. The Ice Emperor's son was just coming to West City for an official visit and the opportunity looked pitch perfect to start the work.

With some hindsight, Goku had to admit that this investigation about Freezer had been sheer madness. Freezer was a mysterious character, but he was mostly known to be dangerous and the risks Goku took to learn more about him had been insane. In the end, he'd only been able to make it because he'd met Vegeta on his way. Still, Gohan's life had been at stake at some point and the kid barely escaped an attempt of kidnapping.

It didn't prevent Goku from gathering enough proofs and pictures to unveil a real affair of state. When he was done, he went to Pilaf. Goku had considered that the Chief Editor might be reluctant to accept such an inflammatory reportage in fear for his own life, but Pilaf didn't. Pilaf just smirked. He bought everything Goku had to sell and he hired him as a regular journalist. He even offered a job to Vegeta in the process.

This glorious feat owed Goku his current fame as the best reporter in town. He was proud. He'd hoped Chichi would be proud too, but as always he was far off base. Chichi was nothing near proud or happy. She was angry and scared. She'd blamed him for shamelessly endangering their son and she'd decided she would divorce once and for all from her thoughtless husband who couldn't get a normal job.

Her decision has come to a blow for Goku after his great success as reporter and his recruitment as a regular journalist at Snapshot.

Once again, he felt as if his wife and him were living in worlds apart and he was hopeless to understand what she wanted. She asked him to move and he obliged with the secret hope that she would change her mind. Even the day they signed the divorce, he was still in disbelief that she could live without him.

As a matter of fact, much to her despair, she couldn't. And there he was once again, lying in her bed next to her sleeping body in a house that was officially hers, but that would always remained theirs.

Goku sighed. Maybe, if he could make it with that Bulma Briefs' matter, he could get enough money to take her back to Mount Paozu. They would have enough money to live properly and they would raise their son in the open nature. Maybe they would be able to go back to the start.

Mulling over this possibility prevented him from falling asleep. He sat up and tiptoed out of the room. He climbed down the steps with caution as not to wake up anybody and locked himself in the kitchen. He pulled a thick brief out of his bag and rested it down the table.

He didn't open it though. It was useless since he'd read the stack of papers hundreds of time. Everything was again about Bulma Briefs, or her supposed boyfriend. He'd gathered a fair amount of information about him and he knew by now that it would be quite easy to get in touch with the guy, but Goku would still be unable to come closer to the Heiress because she knew his face. Although his pride disliked the idea, Goku had come to the conclusion that Yajirobe was right. Goku would have little choice, but to team up with Vegeta - If only he wasn't such an ass.

Goku gave another sigh. Meanwhile, he needed to check out Yajirobe's information. Yamcha's team was playing a game the next day and if the heiress was his girlfriend, she couldn't miss it. He'll only have to wait for her.


	6. 5 Camouflage

_It's been a while but here we are again._

 _ **ShadowMajin** was kind enough to beta read this chapter again._

* * *

 **Chapter 5 - Camouflage**

West City Stadium was much too big for the scarce audience attending the Baseball match. Half of the bleachers were deserted and it was somewhat of a pathetic sight. However, Vegeta was surprised to find out the small crowd was as noisy as a full stadium. People were clasping in their hands and stomping loudly in wait for the game to start. Yells and laughs were echoing from everywhere.

West City's team was playing Parsely City and both towns were old rivals, which kindled over-excitement among the supporters. Vegeta was standing on the higher level of bleachers and he had been scrutinizing the public with binoculars for at least half an hour. People were restless, waving flags and banners, and glorifying their respective teams. Their constant actions made Vegeta's search quite difficult. Yet, even though he hadn't been able to check the whole audience, he was pretty sure he was seeking the wrong place. It was unlikely the Heiress would simply be there, sitting among such a bunch of hotheads.

He lowered his binoculars and shifted his eyes to the building towering above the stadium. Huge window panes formed long rows on the wall directly above the baseball field. He knew that the box suites were right here, out of the sight of the common run of people. Sure enough, the Heiress has to be there too - if Yajirobe had been right, that is.

He stuffed the binoculars in his bag and headed to the curving running behind the bleachers. The Stadium staff was wearing black and green jackets with matching caps. They were running in circle as they had a hard time seating people at the right place and avoiding both teams' supporters to get mixed.

Vegeta kept walking until he came closer to the stairs leading inside the building and up to the box suites. He posted himself at the foot of the stairs and observed the door giving inside access on top of it.

It wasn't long before a young guy ran out of the building and down the stairs. Vegeta caught his arm in flight without a second thought. The man turned to him in bewilderment. His hair was a dark red and his face was speckled with freckles. He was wearing a black and green outfit and a badge claiming his name was Lars, member of the Stadium's staff.

Vegeta smiled to him. "Hey – Lars? Is that it?" he asked while cocking his head in order to read the badge properly.

The boy frowned and tried to snatch his arm out of Vegeta's grip. The reporter wouldn't let go of him that easily though. Instead he shook Lars' hand all by slipping a note between their palms in the process. "I guess you are on duty in the box suites, aren't you?" Vegeta asked in a slick voice while releasing his hold.

Lars' eyebrows arched as he looked at the note closer and deciphered the figure printed on it. He balled his fist on the paper and his tense features soothed in a blink. "Right. Serving the VIP."

Vegeta smirked. "I was wondering if you'd seen a woman up there – the blue-haired kind. Does that sound familiar to you?"

Lars stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Nope. No women up there as far as I could see. Only men. I haven't visited all the boxes so far, but I didn't hear about a blue-haired woman hanging around, or about any women for that matter."

Vegeta had a slight frown. He peeked at the door with a second thought. Then, he pulled another note out of his jacket. Lars' eyes shimmered in greed. "Would you lend me your cap and jacket for a moment?" Vegeta resumed.

Lars scratched his head in hesitation. "Huh – that's something different. I could be fired."

Vegeta added a second note to the first one he had in hand and he stuffed them in the pocket of the boy's shirt. "Don't worry, I'll be quick and I know how to go unnoticed, believe me."

Lars didn't try to give the notes back, but he wouldn't bring himself to give his jacket to Vegeta either. He pouted in indecisiveness. "I'm still not sure it's safe. I can't afford losing my job. My girlfriend is pregnant, you know," he mumbled.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow in realization. "Huh, I understand. I wouldn't like you to get into deeper trouble than you already are. This might help," he said while taking something more out of his jacket and slipping it into the pocket of the shirt along with the first notes. "Now, gimme your jacket and stop bargaining."

Lars did as he was told and gave his cap as well. Vegeta put the uniform on and climbed up the stairs. Meanwhile, the young man took the notes out of his pocket in order to count them. He was taken aback to find out that the last note was indeed a condom. "Crap," he growled while glaring as Vegeta entered the building.

The reporter followed the narrow corridor running past the doors of each boxe. The place was completely deserted and the only thing he could hear was the muffled roar of the audience welcoming the teams on the field. He sank the cap deep on his head in order to prevent people from seeing his face too well and reached the first door

He opened it with caution. He found a small lounge with a pair of cozy armchairs facing the huge window-pane. However, there was no one there and he resumed his walk along the corridor. He tried the second door. Just like in the first box, armchairs were facing the windows but this time, three middle-aged guys were arguing about the players. One of them turned to Vegeta and gave him a questioning look.

"Do you need anything, Sir?" Vegeta asked meekly.

"I told your buddy to bring us some whiskey with ice, but it seems he fell asleep somewhere. Just try to get it before the end of the game, will you?" the guy answered with a scowl.

Vegeta nodded in agreement and stepped out of the room. He deemed there were about ten boxes like this one and Lars had said he hadn't checked all of them, yet. However, for some reasons, Vegeta felt it was of no use to keep going on that way. The heiress wouldn't be there because the Heiress had nothing to do with that goddam loser of a baseball player. He'd misjudged her by thinking she could be dumb enough to have a moronic man like Yajirobe catch her off guard while Goku had been unsuccessful in doing so for a whole month. Despite this depressing obviousness, Vegeta opened the third door. He needed to get to the bottom of it.

An old man was sitting in the armchair and giving him his back. He was small and his frame was quite petite. He was so focused on the game playing outside the window that he didn't even turned to Vegeta. He might as well be completely deaf. Considering his white hair and his apparent frailty, Vegeta deemed him to be something of an old fossil.

As he was about to close the door, something caught his attention though. The way the guy had crossed his legs was something weird. Old people would hardly cross their legs, or if they did they wouldn't hold the position very long or very easily because they were no longer as supple as a younger person and they were pain-ridden most of the time. Yet, the guy there didn't seem to have any trouble crossing his legs high on his thigh and keeping motionless in that position.

Vegeta made one step in the room to get a closer look. The guy turned his head to him. He had big glasses with tainted lens. His fringe of white hair was falling down to his eyebrows and a scarf was hiding his chin hardly displaying his thin lip. "Is there anything wrong?" he asked.

The voice was mostly a raucous cough. It didn't sound natural to Vegeta although it was nothing near womanly either. That's when Vegeta's eyes fell on the guy's hand grabbing the armrest. Something flashed in the reporter's brain. It felt like an adrenaline shoot and his heart raced on the go. He swallowed hard while noting that this was for sure a woman's hand. The fingers were slim and long with perfect nails even though they weren't polished.

There she was. It could only be Bulma Briefs grossly disguised. He felt like he had stumbled across a very rare and very shy animal. He was both excited to have at last flushed the heiress out, and scared to see her run away in a blink. As he focused a little bit more, he could make out her blue eyes through the glasses and her breasts under the crumpled shirt she was wearing. He even had the illusion to see her blue hair through the grotesque wig.

"Everything's fine, Sir. I just wanted to check out if you needed anything," he replied.

She frowned slightly and he held his breath. He could say she was eying him. It lasted too long before she answered to him and he knew something was going wrong.

"Your coworker asked the same question and I told him I wanted a beer. It was hardly five minutes ago," she stated.

He froze. Hell, that was bad. She was the suspicious one. He cleared his throat as to gain some time. "Huh, yes I know, Sir but he stumbled down the stairs as he was back from taking the orders and he was taken to the medical bay, so I have to take all the orders again."

He could have slapped himself for such an obvious lie. She stared at him for what seemed an eternity to him. "Did he? Is he all right?" she ended up asking.

Her voice sounded faker and faker to him and the more he looked at her, the more he considered her disguise was lame. The more he looked at her, the better he distinguished her underneath the awful clothes and the ridiculous wig. Yet, he realized she was as wary about him figuring out who she really was than he was about her.

"I think so, Sir. He might be back during the game. I'll bring your beer," he answered with some relief.

She nodded and turned back to the game. He exited the room and stood for a while in the corridor. He felt short of breath. Thinking she was just behind the door was something breathtaking. So, it seemed that bastard of Yajirobe had been right once again. What a dreadful snake. The heiress was indeed the baseball player's girlfriend. Why would she attend the match in such a pathetic disguise otherwise? An unwilling smile stretched Vegeta's lips.

"So?" a voice whispered right next to his ear. He had a jump and found out Goku was standing just next to him. Vegeta was speechless, his mouth ajar in astonishment. The bigger man's elbow was leaning against the wall with his head resting in his palm. He was giving Vegeta a questioning gaze.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Goku," Vegeta hissed.

"Same as you, man. Searching the target, any clue so far?"

Vegeta glanced at the door of the box. It was no good at all to have this moron talking about targets when the Heiress was maybe listening to them. Not to mention, she knew Goku and she would understand at once who Vegeta really was. It was the last thing he needed right now.

He walked away and left Goku behind. The taller man followed him. "C'mon Veg' if you tell me what you have, I'll let you know what I have too. It's worth it, no kidding."

"No," Vegeta growled

"You don't even know what the deal is about," Goku carried on in a pleading tone.

Vegeta stopped and turned to him with an accusing finger pointed at him. "I know exactly what your deal is about. It's about you being screwed up because she knows your face while she never saw mine before. Whatever you'll do around her, you'll be recognized in a blink. That's why you need me to team up with you when I have nothing to gain in return. You had your chance and you ruined it. Now it's my turn and I'm not going to waste it because of you."

Goku squinted at the speech and he smirked. "You think you know it all, don't you? I thought the same a year ago so believe me, my friend, you're going to crash and burn. I miss anonymity while you miss experience."

Vegeta glared at him and pursed his lips. "I – am – not – your – friend," he spelled out before flouncing out the corridor. Behind his back, Goku chuckled. "Black and green fit you very well, Veg'," he added as the door snapped shut.

Lars was still at the foot of the stairs, leaning casually against the wall and waiting for Vegeta.

"I need a beer," Vegeta barked.

"So do I," Lars answered with an unaffected voice.

"No, I mean I need a beer to serve it upstairs," the reporter growled.

Lars arched his brows. "Hey, man. It's not the deal,"

Vegeta was mad from his encounter with Goku. He grabbed the boy's collar before he could end his sentence and pinned him roughly against the wall. "Now, listen to me, you creeper. You got half of your monthly wage there in your pocket. You also have two options, either you lose everything, including the dough, your job and some teeth, or you just shut up and get a beer for me, right now."

Lars frowned, but Vegeta knew he was frightened. He wasn't especially well-built, but he was sort of cunning and that meant he would make the right choice. As a matter of fact, he raised his hand in helplessness. "Okay, guy. Wait a sec and I'll get the beer,"

Vegeta let go of him and watch him walk away. Thinking about it, he called him back. "Hey, creep. Bring the other customer's orders too so that no one ends up complaining about the service. I wouldn't like that and neither would your boss," he added.

Lars raised a thumb to let him know he'd heard his last request and he rushed away.

After fifteen minutes, Lars and Vegeta were entering the corridor, both holding a tray with drinks resting on them. Vegeta gave a wary glance at the place as he feared Goku would still be standing there like a moron. Yet, he was relieved to find out he was gone. Where, Vegeta couldn't exactly tell, but he suspected his rival had been successful to get a box seat for himself. It didn't matter that much because it was quite obvious that he hadn't guessed that the Heiress was just next to him, looking like an old freak. Goku could be surprisingly stupid despite everyone holding him for the best of the best.

Vegeta left Lars behind and knocked at the Heiress' door. He stepped in when she allowed him to.

She was still watching the game. She was using binoculars now, which seemed uncomfortable due to her glasses she had been careful to keep on.

He rested the little tray on the coffee table. He froze for a moment and looked at her. He was mesmerized by the thought that he had come so close to her so easily and she didn't even suspect anything. Sure, there was nothing spicy to shoot at for now, but his time will come. She looked so helpless and so unaware of him being just behind her at that minute that he knew he would make it.

All of a sudden, she blurted a small yelp and stood up in one go in a little hop. He was taken aback by the unexpected move, but he understood that West City's team had just made a home run. Yet, she froze immediately as she had certainly realized how un-old man-ly her acting had just been.

She covered her mouth with her hands and turned to him. He lowered his head before their eyes met and pretended to be busy with the top of the bottle needing to be taken off. He tried his best to focus on the beer, but he could feel her gaze on him.

Screams of joy and excitement were echoing from the nearby boxes as well. She didn't move. He poured the beer and ended up looking up at her. Their eyes met and his blood ran cold. Did she guess he was no waiter? Should he look unaffected? Surprised? Cheerful? Should he talk about the game? About the service? He felt completely numb.

That's when the door swung open and a joyful voice yelled in jubilation. "Home run! Home run!"

Vegeta thought he was going to faint when Goku entered the room along with more guys laughing and hugging each other like dumbasses.

He glanced at the Heiress and saw her turn pale. Goku ignored him and addressed her directly. "Home run, grandpa! You saw it? I'm sure as long as your life has been, you never saw something like this before! This Yamcha is a goddamn batsman!"

Vegeta watched with horrified eyes as he hugged the so-called grandpa. The Heiress remained wordless, but Vegeta could tell she was frantic. She feigned a loud cough. "Let go! Let go!' she mumbled while covering her mouth with her scarf.

"Hey, are you okay, grandpa?" Goku asked in concern. The other guys stepped in as to give some wise advice about what to do about bad cough.

Vegeta blinked at the sight and without knowing it he found himself shouting. "Gentlemen! Would you please leave this room? That man needs quietness and air. Go back to your own seats, please!" He was so irritated at the situation, he didn't even know how words like "Gentlemen" or "please" had been able to come to his mind. However, his speech seemed to have some effects as Goku and the bunch of dumbasses left the room still laughing and slapping each other's back. Vegeta closed the door and turned to the Heiress.

She was giving him her back keeping her scarf pressed against her nose. He almost pitied her as her frame betrayed so obviously her womanhood.

"Are you alright, Sir?" Vegeta asked after a while.

She didn't reply straight away. He couldn't see her face, but for some reasons he had the feeling she was sad. Or maybe she was shocked. Or maybe she was mulling over the situation.

When she spoke at last, her voice was hardly a whisper. "It's okay, thanks. I'll call my driver. He's going to pick me up, don't worry," she stated.

Vegeta's eyebrows arched. "Are you sure? The game isn't over yet. I'll make sure you won't be bothered again if that's-"

"It's alright," she cut off in a breath.

He heard a slight sniff and she grabbed a bag resting on a free armchair. She rummaged it. "Wait a second," she murmured.

She pulled out a note and put it on the tray on the coffee table. She was cautious enough not to come too close to Vegeta still standing at the door.

"Thanks for everything, just take all this out and leave me alone now, please," she said once again.

She was hardly making effort to transform her voice any longer. He didn't dare insist and did as he was told. When he walked back in the corridor, the other supporters were gathered in another box and still yelling and arguing about the game. Vegeta gritted his teeth. He craved for a little explanation with Goku, but it was too risky right now because he wouldn't like anyone to find out he was no member of the Stadium's staff.

Yet, his wish was granted nonetheless for Goku was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

"You, bloody bastard!" Vegeta exclaimed when he saw him.

"Don't take it so seriously, man," Goku chuckled.

"You were about to blow my cover, moron," Vegeta growled.

Goku eyed the note on the tray. He took it between two fingers and waved it at Vegeta's face. "But I didn't, after all. It seemed she really held you for a waiter. She even left you a good tip," he chanted.

Vegeta snatched the note from his grip. "Don't you ever pull crap like that again," Vegeta hissed.

Goku pursed his lips. "You know, if we don't work together, I don't intend to make things easy for you and you'll be in my way as well, so why not just team up together as the boss suggested it? Think about it."

Vegeta glared at him. "As things stand, what I might end up thinking about is killing you and burying your corpse in your ex's garden. Keep your distance, moron."

With that, Vegeta walked away, ignoring Goku's mocking face. He was mad at the thought that the Heiress might now fly away. His night was lost except for trying to tail the baseball player further.

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	7. 6 Turning Gold into Lead

_Beta Read by **ShadowMajin**. Great help._

 _Note : ShadowMajin drew my attention on the fact that he considered Puar as a girl. Thus, I found out that this gender is specific to the english translation of DBZ. However, the cat is actually drifting between genderless and male in the japanese version (as well as in the french version by the way). So I have to let you know that I didn't intend to change the character's gender into a male. I just sticked to what I knew about him/her/it/whatever. Don't be shocked. _

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Turning Gold into Lead**

The night had been tough.

They had won the game. Yamcha had the feeling he'd been blessed by a sort of godly grace - Not that he had ever believed in a God whatsoever, but he couldn't find better words to describe it. With some hindsight he was dumbfounded by the miraculous turn of events. His every move had resulted in a success. His runs. His hits. He'd been constantly at the right place at the right time, driving the opposite team crazy. Furthermore, his teammates had for once followed his pace and they had served him right. He'd been so focused on the game at some point that he could still hardly hear the audience's insane roar. It had been like drifting through a dream and truth was Yamcha hadn't felt that way for a very long time.

The game had ended in a crushing victory for West City's. Parsely City's team had no other choice than to mumble some half-hearted congratulations before climbing up into their bus back home.

West City's supporters had gone wild in jubilation and Yamcha had been their focal point. He'd been their hero that night and the boss of the club had thrown a celebration immediately afterward. Yamcha attended it – how could it be otherwise?

It had been nothing near the usual crappy parties they had with cheap beer and a small group of fans, including the stadium staff. No, it had been far beyond that. How the boss had time to organize such an incredible event, although he had no way to predict their amazing victory, Yamcha had no idea, but the party took place in a select club a few blocks away from the stadium in a crazy loud atmosphere.

Good, strong booze, deafening music, hot girls everywhere, Yamcha had been stunned at how good the club had been at planning everything. The party could easily compete with the ones Satan City's Baseball club organized. Yamcha felt like he had traveled back in time to the earlier years of his career. He'd felt carried away and soon enough, his old habits had been back, lurking in his mind and teasing his body.

He'd drunk too much, or at least much more than he was used to lately. At some point he'd found himself pinned to a wall by a tantalizing brunette in a dark corridor of the club with his palm cropping her unfamiliar breast. He'd been able to gather his wits just in time and he'd left the girl and the party behind.

It had been past two in the morning when a driver had finally dropped him at the place he was supposed to join Bulma. He'd felt dizzy while struggling the reluctant lock of the door, but when he'd found her waiting for him in a wicked silky robe, he'd been snatched out of his numbness in a blink.

Bulma was like the victory of the night before – an unexpected grace in his routine. He only mourned the fact that they couldn't have an official relationship. She refused it to him. It had been the first thing she'd told him when they started to date. Nothing could come out publicly unless they were willing to engage themselves in a serious bond – which meant obviously marriage. That was the deal.

Although Bulma had a casual nature most of the time, she nurtured a disturbing obsession when it came about the outside world, especially journalists. She liked to call them creepers. Yamcha couldn't blame her for that. He'd read a lot of gossips about her before they met and none of them did her justice.

In the beginning, Yamcha hadn't minded the secrecy of their romance even if Bulma's constant suspicion sounded somewhat excessive. In fact, he'd found the whole matter quite exciting. Yet, as time went by, his excitement had given way to a kind of weariness. It sometimes felt like their relationship was some shameful sin no one should ever learn about. It was all about secret dates in secret odd places and unexpected changes of plans - and he was sometimes hurt at the thought that Bulma might indeed be willing to hide him, or to prevent him from trespassing on her intimate life.

He wasn't even sure where she was really living. He had the feeling that she had a secret life without him and she could hardly be by his side in the moment he most wanted her to be, like a party about an outstanding victory of his. This was nothing near the way he'd like to live his life with her.

Yet, he wasn't ready to take the plunge and bring himself to propose to her. The mere thought of it scared him. He'd never had a girlfriend for such a long time before and their relationship still looked like the exploration of some unknown territory in his mind. As exciting as it was, he couldn't help but stay on his guard with the constant awareness of a possible trick.

Puar had often told him he was gifted to turn gold into lead. Puar knew him well and Yamcha couldn't deny his friend was somehow right. Life hadn't always been nice to him, but the few times great opportunities had appeared to him, Yamcha had grabbed them so clumsily that they'd slipped away.

Puar was smarter than him and he'd been his companion since their childhood in a bleak orphanage at the foot of Mount Frypan. Back then, they'd been taught Martial Arts with the lame prospect to become some local merchants' henchmen. None of them had any will for such a life though, so they ran away at the age of sixteen and with nothing else to do in a wild area like Salty desert, they'd settled down as thieves. Life had been hard at that time, but Yamcha kept precious memories of the way Puar and him had supported each other. They'd spent some years in that desert, hardly living from the fruits of their misadventures until Puar claimed they should move on. If it hadn't been for him, Yamcha might as well be still rotting in Salty's hellish backwater.

Lucky for him, Puar had made the decision for both of them to go and live with other human beings. Although Yamcha would rather die than admit it, he'd been somewhat scared. He couldn't bear the idea of facing real people. Puar had dragged him the whole way to the closest town.

As a matter of fact, Aru wasn't exactly a town, Yamcha realized it years later, but it had been a living place nevertheless. Puar had found shelter for them and even a job. Yamcha had a hard time adjusting to this demanding life. Getting up in time, eating in time, and being stuck doing boring things in the meantime, all this had been a true challenge to him. He'd been fired after two days. He was able to find another job, but it didn't last long either. Furthermore, Puar had caught him falling back into his old thief's habits. Things were going down the hill and Yamcha still hoped that Puar would accept to go back to Salty Desert.

That's when Yamcha discovered he was much more gifted to deal with women than with men. For some reasons, most women turned out to be rather compromising with him. He was especially proved right the day he was hired by a Lady-Farmer. She would never nag at him for being late in the morning and she would never check out the length of his breaks throughout the day of work. Yamcha enjoyed her cool attitude for it allowed him to have a job and to get rid of the guilt of having Puar pay for everything for both of them. He never made the connection between his outstanding working condition and the occasional sex he had with his boss until Puar pointed it out. Yamcha was that naïve at the time. He had lived most of his life like a savage and he still had a lot to learn about people, especially about women.

Puar had blamed him for being so foolish, but Yamcha was too dumb to get it anyway and as Puar had predicted, things turned awfully wrong. The Lady-Farmer happened to be married and they had to run away once more. They left an inglorious mess behind and it resulted in them needing to get lost in a much bigger town - which led them to Satan City.

Even though Puar had been mad at him, he'd never held a deep grudge to Yamcha for ruining everything they had built in Aru. Yamcha never knew much about family bound, but Puar had always been the closest thing to a brother in his mind. Yamcha was sure a brother wouldn't be more dedicated and forgiving than Puar. He'd saved him countless times and he'd never left him behind, so no matter the blood running in their veins, Puar was his brother. Even the day Yamcha had found out Puar had a clear liking for men, he hadn't felt shocked. Being a woman's lover, Yamcha had to admit that he wasn't exactly at ease with other guy's homosexuality, but Puar was something different. Yamcha didn't mind because they were brothers after all, so no awkwardness could taint their bond. Puar only asked him to stop wandering half-naked at home, pointing out he wouldn't do it if he was a girl and Yamcha thought it was fair.

When they arrived in Satan City, Puar had some saving left and they were able to find a small apartment in a wretched neighborhood. Satan City was quite different from Aru. It was much bigger and much richer too. They both found a job quite easily. Puar was hired by a secondhand car dealership and Yamcha found work as a cleaner in a mall.

It was nothing near thrilling and he had a weird work schedule. He would start early in the morning and get a five hours break in the middle of the day. This pace had been somewhat disturbing for his wild nature, but he had done his best to stick to the job as he still felt guilty about his misfortune in Aru.

That's how he discovered baseball. Being free five endless hours a day, he got used to hanging around on the playground next to the mall. A baseball team used a nearby lot for their practices. It was a small team made up with the boys of the neighborhood, but Yamcha had been mesmerized by their game from the very first time he saw them play. He'd never heard of baseball before, but it demanded a fascinating mix of skills.

Yamcha's body had been used to physical effort back to the time when he lived in the desert and even in Aru when he was giving hand on the farm. Yet, in Satan City he had few opportunities to exert himself. It bothered him after a while and he thought naturally about giving baseball a try.

He started to train with the boys of the mall during his free time. He happened to be talented. Even more than talented. He won a game, then two. Then, he was hired in a semi-professional team of the town and it wasn't long before he was offered a golden position in Satan City's team.

Puar and him had been living in Satan City for exactly two years when Yamcha signed the contract and they celebrated like they never did before. At the age of 22, Yamcha's life sounded like a fairy tale running from the orphanage at the foot of the gloomy Mount Frypan up to the stars of Satan City's baseball club.

However, as Puar said, Yamcha had an outstanding skill to turn gold into lead. He would turn any gift he was blessed with into a maddening curse.

Yamcha wasn't prepared to be a star. He was young, quite stupid, and he'd never dealt too well with people. Temptations and bad habits were all around as he discovered what it was like to be rich and adored, but once again, he fell for a girl.

He hadn't learned his lesson well and although Puar had kept an eye on him the whole time, Yamcha couldn't prevent himself from dating the daughter of the club's owner. Such a relationship would have screamed trouble to anyone sensible, except that Yamcha wasn't anyone sensible. He had considered the matter as nothing serious and so had the girl in the first place. She'd been glad to set herself as a handsome, promising baseball player's girlfriend and he'd been glad to be regarded as someone important in the best places of the town. It was fun and rewarding and it was enough for him.

He had forgotten the basic rules he'd been taught back in Aru. The day the girl found out she wasn't the only one to share his bed, she went mad. Her madness had been as fierce as her humiliation had been deep since she found out through the local newspapers about his infidelities.

Her father being the club's owner, she'd become a dreadful foe to Yamcha's career. The young man's results were already going downhill due to some excessive self-indulgence and poor attendance at practice and it hadn't been long before the club decided Yamcha's contract had to come to an end.

The young man had been quite devastated at the news. He was good. He knew he hadn't done things right, but he was still good. His coach had tried to comfort him by mentioning a lot of other teams ready to sign him, but Satan City was the top base ball club in the country. Being fired from it, Yamcha had hardly any hope to ever be the best again and he was well-aware of this fact. He'd felt hopeless.

Despite Puar's attempt to cheer him up, Yamcha refused all the offers any other team would send to him. He wanted to believe until the end that none of this crap was happening to him. Satan City's coach would call him back. He would realize how terrible his mistake had been. He would realize that no one could replace him and he would beg for his forgiveness. Thus, having some comfortable savings at disposal, Yamcha remained unemployed for several months.

That's when he discovered gambling. Gambling was very much like life except it was much more intense. One would win until they lost, or lose until they won, but adrenaline and hope would never let you down. Gambling clubs happened to be the best place ever to test Yamcha's skill to turn gold into lead. His attempts as a poker player turned into a total disaster and he ended definitely broke. After a while he had no choice, but to accept the offer from West City's baseball.

West City's baseball team was nothing near Satan City's. It was a second class team with limited means. Yet, Yamcha hadn't cared when he had signed the contract. He'd craved for escape in the first place. He needed to run away from the great waste of his life and to kill any hope of turning back. Puar followed him as always. He'd been able to attend night school and was now a state-certified teacher.

As a matter of fact, Yamcha's life in West City hadn't been much different than it had been in Satan City. It had only been duller. The games he played were less exciting, the fans supporting him were less engaged, the money he made was less impressive, the alcohol he drank was less expensive. Everything was less. Only the girls and the gambling would keep thrilling him as much as they always had.

All this had been going on for four years until he'd met Bulma nine months ago at a charity gala. He couldn't help but try to approach her as she stood as an enigmatic personality. Although she was shorter than expected, he was pleased to find out she was looking as good as the few pictures he'd seen in the newspapers. He was successful to have a quick chat with her and he realized with some bewilderment that she was following closely his team's results. He hadn't suspected such a woman could go for baseball, but Bulma was a surprising personality.

He tried to work his usual charms on her, but it didn't work out. She was very mistrustful and she wouldn't relax as easily as a normal person. She left him behind without the slightest hope to see her again.

He forgot about her until he received a gift after a match he'd won weeks later. She'd sent him a bottle of his favorite whiskey and he was stunned by her right guess about his taste. Along with the bottle, there was a congratulation card and while most women would have mentioned their phone number on it, Bulma had only left an email. At first, he'd been hesitant about the meaning of this detail and he contented himself with sending a short message to thank her. He was rewarded by an immediate reply that took him aback. "Let's meet."

He had gloated at the idea that she might have kept a constant eye on her emails while praying for him to get in touch with her. He sent a message of agreement, but she never replied. It left him quite puzzled for two days. That was until he had a day off and she showed up at his place. He'd been completely dumbfounded to find her standing at his door in the morning. She gave him a bright smile. "Your manager told me you had a day off. How about hanging around?"

And so they did. Bulma's life was as strange as that. It was completely unpredictable. He had to admit that he had only chased her out of interest in the first place. She was a challenge and he liked women too much to turn his nose on such an opportunity. Yet, things hadn't been as easy as he'd hoped and then, his attraction for her had grown out of hand. Now, he could say she was his first real girlfriend.

He sighed in satisfaction at this thought and turned his head to watch her sleeping by his side. A dazzling ray of light was making its way through the curtains of the room and he realized it might be lunch time. He was starving and he still felt somewhat dizzy from the alcohol he'd drunk the night before.

He rolled over to her and gave a slight peek on her shoulder. She was like a gold nugget in his life and he would be very careful not to turn it into lead this time. Since she didn't seem to wake up, he slipped out of the sheets and got up. He rubbed his eyes and yawned while contemplating the bedroom. It wasn't the same as last time. They never slept in the same bedroom and as usual, there was hardly any personal stuff in here. How many bedrooms did the Capsule building have? He still wondered if Bulma had a real home somewhere and if she would end up showing him her true place.

He walked to the window and drew the curtain open to enjoy the bright warm sun shining outside. The room being at fair heights, he enjoyed dreamily the sight of the city below. He was remembering the game of the night before and despite a slight headache, he felt good.

A small noise echoed in the room. It was like a brief crack, but it wasn't loud and he didn't pay much attention to it until he heard a second one. He frowned. It sounded like something coming from outside and he looked further through the window in an attempt to see what was going on. There was a third noise and for the first time he noticed a tiny point in the windowpane. He was bewildered when a second one appeared all of a sudden along with the same sound once again.

"Yamcha, get down!" Bulma's hoarse voice exclaimed. He turned to her in surprise as she was jumping out of the bed and grabbing his arm to pull him down to the ground. He obliged with some astonishment. "What's going on?" he asked in confusion.

Her blue eyes were wide open and she dashed to the curtains to close them in panic. Then, she rushed to the bedside table and grasped her phone before crawling back to him on all four. "Are you alright?" she whispered.

He arched his eyebrows. "Of course, I am. What's going on?" he insisted.

"Didn't you see? Someone was shooting at you," she explained.

He was so speechless at that statement that he didn't react. She peeked his lips. "Don't worry, the glass is bulletproof here," she resumed softly. She caressed his cheek in a comforting gesture and gave him a weak smile.

"I have to call Tien though," she added after a while.

 **ooo0oooooo0ooo**


	8. 7 Room 403

_Thanks to ShadowMajin for his precious work as beta reader._

* * *

 **Chapter 7 - Room 403**

"Are you Mr. Ouji?"

Vegeta frowned at the question. He contemplated the number displayed on the screen of his phone while trying to identify the female voice talking to him. Her number fit no registered contact, but it wasn't hidden either. That detail soothed his instinctive wariness. "How did you get my number?" he asked.

"I stole it," she claimed bluntly.

Vegeta was lying on his bed and that statement had him sitting up in one go.

"From a common friend of ours, a short guy with filthy hair," she added, "He wanted to prevent us from meeting, but I realized that his way of doing things happened to be much too expensive for both of us, so I stole your number from him."

Vegeta ran a hand in his hair as he was trying to follow her speech. "Can you tell me who you are, then?"

"Let's say my name is Giada. I have been a temporary secretary at Capsule Corp for one week. Does that sound familiar to you?" she replied quietly.

Vegeta's heart raced at the mention of the Capsule Corp. Things pieced together instantly in his brain. This woman had to be Yajirobe's source. She had obviously understood that she'd laid her hand on a treasure thanks to her temporary job and she had decided she would keep it for herself by cutting out the nasty rat.

Vegeta couldn't help the smirk that grew on his face. He stuck the phone between his shoulder and his cheek and leaned to the bedside table to take a cigarette. "Giada, huh? Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked.

"Quite the opposite, Mr. Ouji; I am the one willing to help you - if you're ready to pay a fair price, that is."

Vegeta struck a match and lit up the cigarette. "What is it about?" he asked while breathing out the first drag.

"I can work for you. I'll tell you what I learn and you'll pay me for each tip I give, should it be useful or not. What do you think?"

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "How much do you want?"

She kept quiet for an instant. He felt felt she was mulling over the question. "1,000 zenis a tip," she ended up declaring.

Vegeta pinched his lips. The woman was quite cunning, but she was a total amateur and she had no clue how much people were ready to pay for her knowledge. Furthermore, considering the gap between the price she was claiming and the price the filthy rat was demanding, her bargaining also demonstrated that Yajirobe was definitely good at swindling people. "Well, Giada, I don't know. That's a lot of money. How do I know I can trust you?"

"I knew you would ask me that so I'm ready to give you a preview of what I'm offering you. I let you know about something new and you check it out. If it happens to be true, you'll pay me for the tip and we'll work further together."

"That sounds fair to me. Tell me."

Giada didn't answer straight away and Vegeta had the feeling she was having a second thought, but then her voice resumed. "She booked a room for tonight at Hotel Hiltz. Room 403."

Vegeta's blood ran cold. If what this woman said was right, it was some unexpected precious information. He grabbed a pen on the bedside table and a newspaper resting on the bed next to him. He noted the number of the room and the name of the hotel while asking further. "What kind of room is it?"

"A matrimonial room. I would say she might have a guest there,"

"Do you know the name of that potential guest?" he carried on. He was trying to repress his excitement and he was doing his best to sound unimpressed, but it was becoming harder and harder as the call kept going.

"I'm not privy to every detail, but I guess it should be the same partner as usual, the baseball guy. You know, I'm not exactly supposed to know all these things in the first place. You have to find out on your own."

He took a drag of his cigarette by contemplating the words he'd scribbled on the paper. "Okay, Giada, I'll check it out. If it's right, I'll pay you 1,000 zenis. How do we do that? Do we have to meet, or what?"

"No meeting for the moment, Mr. Ouji. I'll call you back in two days. By the way, the phone I'm using isn't mine, so no need to try to track me down. I could be fired and sued for talking to you."

"Don't worry, you know sources are completely confidential, don't you?"

As a reply, she just hung up. Vegeta stared at his phone with disbelief for a while. He couldn't believe his luck. A temporary secretary had eventually happened to be the cracks in the Heiress' fortress and right at the time when he was investigating her. On top of it, said secretary had decided to get rid of Yajirobe's grip and she'd come directly to him. Vegeta's wary mind told him it was too good to be true. However, he had to admit her story matched exactly with the situation. She knew Yajirobe and she knew about the baseball player. He had no choice but to follow this lead, especially considering Goku had ruined his chance to learn more about the Heiress the night before at the Stadium.

The thoughtless moron had scared the target. There was no doubt the Heiress had recognized him. Vegeta had felt her shock when Goku had hugged her and she had been dreadfully nervous even after he'd left her box. Now, she would be on her guard and that would make everything even more complicated. Vegeta cursed under his breath at the thought.

When the Heiress had left the stadium, he had decided to stay and tail the baseball player after the game. Unlucky for him, the victory of West City team had triggered a complete mess in the neighborhood causing a frantic crowd to swarm the entrance of the baseball stadium with the hope to meet the winners.

Vegeta had posted himself on the opposite side of the street, right next to his girl, and he'd waited for Yamcha along with the restless fans all by thinking about Goku. He was wondering if his rival could be stupid enough to try his luck at following the Heiress' car. Either way, Goku had been nowhere in sight since their talk and Vegeta felt somehow concerned about it.

About an hour after the end of the game, Yamcha and the team had exited the building, welcomed by roars of joy. People had become over-excited and Vegeta had hardly been able to get a glimpse on the baseball player's hair before he got lost in a sea of heads surrounding the team.

Vegeta had a hard time trying to make out what the next move of his target would be. Fortunately, a row of elegant cars had showed up to pick them up and Vegeta had been able to followed them from afar thanks to his girl. He couldn't say which car Yamcha was and he prayed that the group wouldn't part. However, all the cars headed to the same destination and they stopped at a club some blocks away, where the team obviously intended to celebrate its victory.

Vegeta had never been there before and it was no good. He had no contact in the staff and he wouldn't be allowed inside. He'd tried to bribe the bouncer, but in this kind of wealthy place, it had been of no use. He'd also thought about sneaking in through a window, or back entrance, but the building was made in a way that gave him no opportunity to do so. Just when he was resigning to be on a boring stake-out for the rest of the night, he stumbled across Goku having a cheerful chat with the bouncer. Goku beamed at him on the go. "Hey, Veg'. Too bad 'non-friends' have to stay out, we could have some good fun inside," he claimed. Vegeta glared at him and Goku smirked in return while the bouncer let him in.

Vegeta could have screamed out of frustration at the sight. Yet, the only thing he could do was settle himself in a dark stinking alleyway near the entrance of the club in order to watch any people leaving the place. He'd waited there for hours, picturing Goku getting good tips about the baseball player, befriending interesting people, and moving on with his investigation.

The whole night had gotten on Vegeta's nerves, making him annoyed and tired to no end. As it was about two in the morning, he was caught off guard by Goku coming out of the building and walking straight to him.

Vegeta watched him with a silent hatred as he joined him and leaned against the wall in front of him. The taller man looked calm as if waiting for Vegeta to say something. Vegeta could have slapped his quiet cocky face. "What do you want, Kakarott?" he grumbled instead.

Goku smiled. "I told you already, why not team up? We did it before and we did a good job. We can do it again. No need to be friends."

"This is ancient history and Bulma Briefs is nothing near Freezer. I don't need you," Vegeta spat.

Goku sighed. "Still, you'll find out that she's not a piece of cake either. Just think about it. Either way, I wanted you to know that Yamcha left about half an hour ago. It seems you missed him."

Vegeta frowned at the statement. He stared at Goku's face in search of any hint of lie. The other reporter gave him another smile and left him behind. For some reasons, Vegeta felt he'd told the truth and that fact twisted his guts. How could it be that this damn moron was always ahead of him?

Vegeta's night had definitely been a complete waste and he still felt bitter and frustrated about it. Yet, this Giada's call had somewhat cheered him up. Up 'till now, Vegeta might be the one ahead.

He stubbed out his cigarette and searched for Hotel Hiltz's number on his phone. He found it and dialed it. A genteel voice answered him. "Hotel Hiltz?"

"Good morning. Do you still have a free room for tonight? I'd like to book one." Vegeta asked.

The line was silent for a minute, then the voice resumed. "Yes, Sir. What kind of room do you want?"

"I'd like to get the same room I had last time I came. I think it was 403 or something. On the fourth floor anyway," Vegeta said.

"We only have one room left on the fourth floor, Sir. It's a royal suite, Number 410. Would you like it?"

Vegeta swallowed hard. "I'll take it," he grunted. "My name is Mr Sen."

"I'll book it for you, Mr Sen. Do you have any idea at what time you might arrive?"

"Late afternoon, I think. Just… just remind me how much a royal suite cost?"

"7,000 zenis a night, Sir. No breakfast included. Is that a problem? We have smaller…"

"No. No problem. My company will pay for it," Vegeta cut off.

"Then, I wish you a nice day, Mr Sen. See you tonight," the voice greeted.

Vegeta hung up and threw the phone further on the bed out of anger. Damnit. This Giada had better be right. Mai would never pay for a royal suite at Hotel Hiltz. Even with no breakfast included, this wouldn't happen. It meant Vegeta would have to nag at Pilaf to get his expense back and his sole hope to make it was to have some breathtaking pictures and stories in return.

...

Hotel Hiltz was one of the most luxurious hotels in the whole country. As Vegeta entered the lobby, it reminded him of the Palace that was once his home. Everything was immaculate and shiny; it was almost dazzling. At 5 pm, he was standing at the front counter and signing the register as guest of room 410. The Heiress would certainly not show up before dinner, or even late evening and he needed time to get ready for her arrival.

A bellboy guided him to the room he'd booked. Vegeta had a suitcase stuffed with the equipment he would need to have a proper job done – if there was any job to do, that is. The Royal Suite was an impressive place. Vegeta contemplated the magnificence of the room for a moment. He was no longer used to such lavish settings and it reminded him once again of some very old memories. He repressed a sigh and focused on his luggage. He opened the suitcase and pulled out each item it contained one by one.

When he was done, he considered everything he had at his disposal and mulled over the situation. He picked out some devices and stuffed them into a smaller bag. Then, he walked out of his room. The corridor was still and deserted at this hour. The clients were still out and the cleaning staff was done with its jobs. Pitch perfect.

He searched quietly for room 403. When he faced the right door he used a multi-pass Nappa had sold him. It was a professional one, no doubt. The door clicked open in a blink and Vegeta entered the room.

It wasn't as big as Vegeta expected it to be. It was even much smaller than his Royal Suite. The Heiress might be fed up with self-indulgent luxury – or maybe she liked discretion better. The lounge was of normal size, separating a bedroom and a bathroom.

Vegeta lost no time and spotted the phone. He worked on it first, placing a bug inside of the receiver. Then he placed small microphone in the lounge and moved on to the bedroom. Although he disliked to hear every single thing that happened there, he had no qualms about fixing some more microphone in that place, knowing that many important talk might be held there.

However, when it came to the cameras, he decided a single one in the lounge would be enough. There was no point in adding a second one in the bedroom. What would happen there was no mystery to him and truth was he wasn't the least bit interested in whatever indoor sport the Heiress liked to practice. Furthermore, cameras snapped awful pictures and Mai would reject any crude pictures for legal and commercial reasons.

When he was done, he checked the whole place once again to ensure he would leave no hint of his visit. Then, he went back to his room and waited while watching the news and eating a sandwich.

The Royal Suite of Hotel Hiltz cost an outrageous price, but Vegeta had to admit it was a much nicer place for a stake-out than the stinking alleyway he'd spent the previous night in. He regularly checked the clock and as hours went by, he became more nervous. He hoped that Giada was a reliable informant.

He had a start when the microphone lit up. He turned off the TV and switched the camera on with bated breath. The light was rather dim and the picture was crappy, but he could clearly see a woman entering Room 403. She was wearing a hat and a trench with what looked like blue locks spreading over her shoulders. She stood motionless for a moment as she was contemplating the setting with her luggage resting next to her. When she took off her hat, unleashing silky blue hair that left few doubt about who she was, glee and relief washed over him.

She walked straight to the window. She closed the curtains carefully and then turned on the lamps. Only then he could take a glimpse at her face. Along with the hat and the coat she had big sunglasses on which had her look like a lame cliché just taken of a spy thriller. She was definitely awful at picking up disguise.

She grabbed her suitcase and headed straight to the bathroom. Vegeta had no device there and he couldn't help but wonder whether it had been a mistake to leave this room as a blind spot.

The only thing he could hear now was the muffled sound of water flowing from the tap. What if she had a phone call while in the bathroom? He would miss the whole talk. Damnit.

He had no time to linger on that thought as someone else entered the room. It was a man. Vegeta squinted and leaned forward closer to the screen. The light was dim and the guy was standing half out of sight so the only thing Vegeta could say was that he was tall with brown hair just like the baseball player. Vegeta licked his lips nervously. His heart was racing. He soothed his nervousness by remembering that he would have time to have a better look at him later. Both guests were supposed to spend the night there after all. He lit a cigarette and watched further.

"Bulma?" the guy called while making a hesitant step ahead.

The water stopped flowing. "Wait, wait," a female voice giggled in return. Then the door of the bathroom opened and all the lights went out all of a sudden. Damnit.

The figure of the Heiress rushed through the twilight and jumped straight on the guy with a chuckle. As far as Vegeta could see, she had taken off her coat. Her blue strands of hair were shining in the shy light. The lovers were out of sight for a minute. All he could hear was laughter and whispers. He couldn't repress another smirk. "Gotcha, little mouse," he murmured for himself.

They stepped back into his field of vision then. The guy was holding her tight and she had wrapped her legs around his waist. They were hugging or kissing- he couldn't say but he didn't care at that point – while walking across the lounge to the bedroom. They entered the bedroom and closed the door.

Vegeta looked at the button of the bedroom's microphones with some reluctance, but he ended up turning it on. He took care to have the volume at his lowest level. He always had a hard time bearing with the voyeurism his job sometimes imposed on him. Well, at least he found out that the Heiress and her baseball player weren't the noisy type. Hardly some panting and moaning and they would spare him any nasty talk or animal cries. He felt somewhat grateful for that and turned his TV on with the sound on mute. He followed the rest of the news while paying occasional attention to his clients' soundtrack.

He was caught off guard when his room's phone rang. He had a jump and cursed. He stubbed out his cigarette and took care to clear his throat before picking up with a frown. "Room service," he answered with his voice as slick as possible.

"Hey, we're room 403, we'd like some Champagne and a can of whipped cream here," a female voice claimed.

"I'll be there in five minutes, Ma'am," Vegeta replied.

He hung up and repressed an annoyed grunt. A can of whipped cream? What kind of crap was that? He picked up the phone of his room. A feminine voice answered immediately. "Room service, how can I please you?"

"I need a bottle of Champagne and, huh, a can of whipped cream for room 410," he grumbled in embarrassment.

"What Champagne, Sir? We have…"

"The cheapest you got. Quick," he cut off.

"I'll be there in five minutes, Sir," the woman answered politely.

"If you can make it in two minutes, you'll have a better tip,"

"I'll be there in two minutes, Sir," she added meekly.

Vegeta hung up and checked his watch. The girl of the room service made it. Exactly two minutes after their talk, she was standing on his threshold pushing an elegant cart with a champagne bucket standing proudly on it along with a can of whipped cream. He didn't let her in and gave her a bundle of notes. She thanked him with no further comment and vanished back into the elevator.

He took the cart into his room and removed all the items resting on it. He placed a rectangular box that was about the size of the cart's tray on top of it and he draped the whole thing with a white tablecloth. That way, the cart looked somewhat higher that it normally was, but the box went completely unnoticed.

Then he pulled a knife out of his pocket and cut a tiny notch in the tablecloth fabric on the front border of the cart. He slipped his finger carefully through the hole and drew back a thin wire coming out from the box. Thus, the small wire was showing through the tablecloth, but it was tiny and discreet enough to look like a flaw in the fabric. Vegeta gave his work a satisfied glance and pocketed his knife back.

The box contained a compact camera that could be triggered at distance. The pictures it would snap wouldn't be excellent, but provided the subject was worth it, it wouldn't matter. With that, Vegeta slipped in a sleeveless black jacket on his white shirt and stepped out of his room.

He pushed the cart up to room 403 and stood in front of the door for a moment. He ran a hand in his hair and prayed that the Heiress wouldn't recognize his as the waiter from the Stadium. The risk was low though. Back in the stadium, she had taken too much care avoiding eye contact and he'd had a cap on. Furthermore, now in that hotel room, the light was dim and her mind was up to something else. He knocked.

"Come in," the Heiress' voice answered.

He did as he was told and pushed the cart up to the middle of the deserted lounge. He was about to leave without saying a word when the bedroom's door opened and the Heiress showed up dressed in a robe. He shivered and looked up at her.

"Champagne? Vegeta, how nice from you!" the woman exclaimed with a glad beam.

He froze and his eyes widened in horror at the words. She took off her wig and shook her head in order to let her true blond hair fall free on her shoulder.

"Fuck off. Lunch? What the hell?" he spat in confusion.

She burst out of laugher while Goku stepped in just behind her with his hands in his pockets. "You liked our show?" he asked with a smile dancing on his lips.

Lunch walked to the tray and grabbed the bottle of Champagne. "Did it sound real? I always thought I should have been an actress," she added with a mischievous wink.

Vegeta was speechless and numb. His eyes were wandering from Goku to Lunch then back to Goku. Goku came closer from the tray. "Look at that, Lunch. He even brought the can of whipped cream. How professional."

The cork of the bottle popping out had Vegeta regaining his wits. "Kakarott, I'll kill you for that," he fumed.

"No need to be such a bad loser, Vegeta," Lunch said while filling the glasses, "You're so uptight sometimes. You'd better have a drink and listen to Goku for once."

He stared at her in disbelief. She was jubilant and he felt like slapping her. She was watching him back with a defiant look as if she'd guessed his thoughts. He just clenched his fists though.

"Now, guys, that was fun but I have my own work to do," she resumed while getting rid of the robe. She was dressed up underneath.

"Thanks for your help, Lunch," Goku told her.

She pouted. "Next time, we'll do it my way, right?" she replied. Then she turned to Vegeta "I wanted to make a tiger roar, but Goku thought it would be too much. Boring."

"So distinguished from you, like always," Vegeta growled.

She chuckled and grabbed the bottle. "That's for me. Enjoy the room, but don't do anything crazy," she concluded before exiting the room.

As soon as she closed the door, Vegeta lunged at Goku and gave him a powerful punch in the jaw. The taller man hadn't seen it coming and he tumbled down, bumping his head on the sofa in the process. Vegeta was on him in a split second and grasped his collar forcefully as he was getting ready for another blow. Goku was able to catch his wrist just in time to prevent another attack. "Damn, Vegeta. Don't be so hot headed," he hissed

"Are you kidding? I told you I'd kill you. Why are you getting in my way? Do you have any idea how much I had to pay for a room in this hotel? Not to mention the waste of time and energy!" Vegeta roared by shaking Goku's collar.

"Man, calm down. It was just a joke. I needed to have a serious talk with you," Goku pleaded.

A strange weariness welled up inside Vegeta. He gave an exasperate sigh and let go of Goku, all but snatching his wrist out of his grip. "You really think what you just did is the best way to have me listen to your crap?" he blurted out as he stood up.

"Exactly. It was the only way to draw your attention," Goku replied while struggling to his feet.

Vegeta went to the cart and grabbed a glass. He drank a few gulps out of it. "How is that?" he asked with a wince.

"You never listen until you get a punch to your face," Goku mumbled. He was sitting on the sofa and rubbing his aching jaw.

Vegeta turned to him with vivid anger on his face. "Then why don't you just try to punch my face instead of having me waste my time and money, you moron?"

Goku couldn't prevent a soft smile from appearing on his face. "Cool down. Listen, I told you we need to team up, but you still wanted to have your way. Now, see what happens? You got trapped like a noob. If we don't team up, we'll be in each other's way and our target is enough trouble already, don't you think?"

Vegeta just huffed in return. He dropped into an armchair and sipped his glass.

"Giada is real," Goku claimed all of a sudden.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "Why would I believe such crap?"

Goku seized the second glass on the cart. "How do you think Yajirobe was able to know so much in such a short time?"

Vegeta squinted. "You went to see Yajirobe? You never ask for his help as far as I know. That's the main reason why I use him despite his insane prices."

Goku rubbed his head in embarrassment. "He was the only one able to provide me something valuable about Bulma Briefs," he confessed.

"And how come you learned about his source at the Capsule Corp, then?" Vegeta asked further.

Goku had an enigmatic smile. "Well, we had a deal but he didn't stick to his word. He had to find a good way to repay me for that. That was Giada."

Vegeta pursed his lips. "A deal? You never deal anything with Yajirobe. Do you mind telling me what it was about?"

Goku shrugged. "He wasn't supposed to tell you anything about the Heiress and the baseball player, but he did it anyway. With some delay, I have to admit it, but he did."

Vegeta choke on his sip. "You're both rats," he grunted while wiping his mouth.

"Maybe but thanks to you, I'm in touch with Giada and it means I will have plenty of information you'll never have. Also, as we both saw yesterday night, I have access to places you won't set foot in," Goku resumed with a playful smile.

Vegeta frowned. He felt Goku was right, but his pride was making it difficult to accept such reasoning.

Goku suspected he wasn't far from caving in though and he carried on, "On the other hand, just like you told me before, I'm screwed up because she knows my face and she'll recognize me whenever I come too close to her. What you did yesterday at the Stadium by pretending you were a waiter, this is a thing I can no longer afford. It sucks, but I'll have to get by with it."

Vegeta watched him silently for a while. That face of his, his cocky smile everyone held for a goofy one. "How do I know I can trust you? You trapped me tonight."

Goku raised his hands in a harmless stance. "If we're working together, I have no reasons to lay traps for you, but if we're not, you'll never know what I'll be up to."

"Better keep your enemy close to you," Vegeta mumbled. This had been a rule the Ice Jinns were careful to remember and it had prevented Vegeta from getting his revenge for years.

"That's the spirit, although I never considered you as an enemy," Goku admitted. "Deal done?"

Vegeta sighed. "We'll give it a try. A single attempt. If it doesn't work out, our partnership is finished, hear me?"

Goku beamed. "Whatever you want, I'm relieved to hear you talk that way."

Vegeta gave a disbelieving grunt. "Tell me about that Giada. What does she know?"

Goku leaned backward in the sofa. "For example, she knows that someone tried to shoot the Heiress this morning."

Vegeta froze. "What? Are you kidding or… is it another of your tricks to frighten her?"

"Oh, please, I'm not that crazy," Goku objected forcefully, "I swear I have nothing to do with that. It gave me an idea though. So, are you in?"

Vegeta had a second thought, but he ended up raising his glass in agreement. "I'm in. For the moment."

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	9. 8 Black Jack and Poker face

_Hey there. Nancy, thanks for your support._

 _ShadowMajin, thanks for your work._

* * *

 **Chapter 8 - Black Jack and Poker Face**

Goku was considering the bulky guy sitting opposite from him and talking with Vegeta in a foreign language. It sounded like a senseless chain of gravelly and hissing sounds. Goku felt mesmerized by the sight. He had always known Vegeta came from Vegitasei, but he had never figured out his coworker could have any connection with a Saiyan community, let alone he hadn't even figured out such a community could exist in West City. Like anybody else, Goku had always assumed that Saiyan people were a sort of endangered species, given that the countless wars ravaging their country in the last decades had killed most of them and scattered the few survivors all over the world. Yet, the bulky guy - Nappa - was one of them and he seemed rather familiar with Vegeta.

Vegeta had never confessed a lot about himself even at the time he and Goku had risked their lives together while investigating Freezer and Goku was realizing that he might have missed a lot about him. For now, he was relieved that his Saiyan rival ended up agreeing to team up with him and the simple gathering of their respective information had allowed them to build a proper plan about their next move.

Goku knew a killer was tracking the Heiress down and she needed protection. Giada had mentioned that she had hired a bodyguard, but for some reasons he'd resigned on his first day. Goku wasn't very surprised. Bodyguards upsetted her as much as journalists considering she couldn't bear with someone tailing her night and day. Yet, Goku also assumed that people around her were worried for her and that they would do anything to convince her to take another bodyguard, starting with Yamcha who had become a lively target by her side. Sure enough, the Heiress was too paranoid to hire any guy out of the blue, but she might be willing to accept a "friend". Or even, with some luck, a friend's friend.

On the other hand, with Nappa running most of the illegal gambling clubs in West City, Vegeta had been able to discover that Yamcha was a compulsive gambler - something Goku hadn't found out so far. Vegeta had described Nappa as an unsavory guy with a particular liking for violence and the guy sitting in front of Goku looked true to this depiction. Thus, one thing leading to another, Goku had thought Nappa's gambling club should be the best place to introduce a reliable friendly bodyguard to Yamcha.

The chat between Vegeta and Nappa had been going on for a while and Goku didn't like the situation. He had no clue what they were talking about and he disliked especially the insistent glances Nappa was giving him as he had the feeling both men were talking about him.

Goku cleared his throat. "Okay, guys, what about talking in Westernish? I'd like to be in," he offered.

Nappa kept quiet and smirked. "Don't you speak Saiyan?"

Goku rolled his eyes at the tease in the question, "Why would I?"

Vegeta interrupted them with a sharp voice. "Nappa says Yamcha is supposed to show up soon. We'll wait for him. You said you befriended him during that party at the club, so we'll act as if stumbling across him by sheer luck. Will he remember you?"

"He should. It won't be a big deal if he doesn't though." Goku grumbled.

Vegeta turned to Nappa. "You have to make sure he won't win."

Nappa chuckled. "He won't. Either way, he owes me so much money…"

"Forget about that tonight," Vegeta hissed in irritation.

Nappa scowled. "Sen, I shouldn't even tolerate him in my place. I don't want anyone to think they can be in debt with me and laugh at my face."

Vegeta glared at him. "You'll do as I said. You won't harm a hair on his head as long as I don't allow it."

Silence answered Vegeta's harsh voice. Goku contemplated Nappa with amazement. The guy was much taller and much bulkier than Vegeta. He was obviously a true brute with no care for legality and yet, he merely bowed his head in disgruntlement at the other Saiyan's speech.

"How many guys do you intend to send then?" Vegeta asked ignoring his compatriot's annoyance.

"Three," Nappa grunted.

"It's not enough. Five will do," Vegeta corrected.

Nappa raised his head with a start. "Sen! You're gonna ruin them, I know you won't hold back. I don't have an army at my disposal. Let's say four," he pleaded.

"I said five," Vegeta replied coldly, "and I don't want chicken. I want dreadful badasses."

Nappa got up nervously. "As you wish, Sen," he replied half-heartedly. Then, he glared suspiciously at Goku and left the room.

Goku eyed Vegeta with an admiring smile. "Hey, it seems you're something of a boss here."

"I just hope your plan will works. I still doubt the baseball player is moronic enough to buy it," Vegeta spat.

Goku chuckled. "I'll make him confident, don't worry. My only concern is whether you'll be nice and friendly enough with him. Your rate of sympathy is quite low, right now."

Vegeta sighed and got up. "That's why we should go to the bar and have a few drink while we wait for him."

They left the back room of the club and joined the public room. Although the business was illegal, the place was stylish. The decor was rather refined with a varnished parquet floor and large painting hanging on the wall. Gaming tables were arranged all around and swarming with players and watchers, the former sitting and the latter standing. Their talks were forming a smooth rumor troubled by yells of joy or horror from time to time. Guys wearing neat black suits were standing discreetly around the room and watching carefully what was going on. Despite being totally illegal, Nappa's club was actually looking like a select casino and the Saiyan might not tolerate brawls or scandals in there.

Vegeta headed to the bar and ordered a Vodka. The barman served him even before Goku could join him.

"It's crowded," Goku stated, "We should watch out so we don't miss him."

Vegeta stared at the swarming gambling room. "Someone will warn us, don't worry."

Goku got a drink for himself by the time Vegeta was served with a second vodka. Goku glimpsed at him and noted he was looking too stern and annoyed while the plan demanded him to be somewhat cheerful. "Smile," Goku grunted.

"What?" Vegeta replied.

"I said, smile. Give it a try at least. We're no longer after Freezer, the target is different this time. You look like a killer and you're gonna scare him."

Vegeta huffed and drank his second vodka in one go. "We need him to see me as a ruthless fighter in the first place. You can do the socialization."

Goku repressed a sigh. He'd worked with Vegeta before, but their target had been definitely something else. At the time he'd tracked Freezer down, Goku had needed a reliable partner with quick reactions and ruthlessness. Vegeta's ability as a fighter had been precious too. Goku kept thrilling memories of their work together and he thought highly of the Saiyan, but he dreaded his lack of flexibility when it was about people interactions. Goku realized he might keep an eye on him and be wary of his bad temper.

While pondering about his partner's weakness, Goku noticed a waitress heading to them. She was dressed in a tight dress and she looked much more like a stewardess if you asked him. Yet, the girl's outfit complimented the hushed atmosphere. She walked to bar and rested her tray on the counter just between the two reporters.

"Sen, the guy you're waiting for is playing Blackjack in the back of the room," she mumbled while acting as if she wasn't addressing anyone in particular.

Vegeta snatched his empty glass on the counter and stepped away without a glance at her. Goku let him go with his eyes locked on him. The waitress ignored Vegeta's move and she kept unloading her tray wordlessly. Goku looked down at her. "What is that name, 'Sen'? Everyone calls him that. Where does it come from?"

Her eyes turned to him with an amused pout. "You don't know, really? It's Saiyajinn. It's supposed to mean 'Prince' or something like that."

Goku arched his eyebrows in bewilderment. "Prince? Whoa! What the hell did he do to deserve such a nickname?"

She smiled and shrugged. "He _is_ a Prince. That's what the boss says at least. He says Vegeta was once a Prince in Vegitasei. When I see him, I tend to think it's true."

Goku frowned in disbelief and it resulted in the waitress chuckling. The reporter focused back on the crowded place. He spotted Vegeta ruthlessly making his way through the crowd and he hurried after him.

Yamcha was indeed sitting at a Blackjack table along with four other guys, his back turned to Vegeta and Goku. They walked closer to the player and Goku peeked at his hand. Two nines, that was pretty bad. Eighteen points while the bank had nineteen. Yamcha was pondering about asking one more card or giving up to any chance of winning. Goku crossed his arms and waited for him to make his decision.

"One more, please," the baseball player asked with bated breath.

The dealer obliged and flipped a five over. Too bad. He grasped Yamcha's counters in a blink.

"Bad Luck tonight?" Goku whispered at Yamcha's ear. The player had a faint jump and turned around. Goku could read a slight hesitation on his face as their eyes met. "Remember me? It's Kakarott. We met at the club after your victory."

Yamcha's features eased in a smile. "Hey sure, how are you, dude? Gambling too?"

Goku beamed. "Yeah, I'm broke though. I lost everything at poker."

Yamcha chuckled. "You have to bear with such shit sometimes. I won a few so far,"

"Really? Let's see if I can do it too," Vegeta stepped in. He took the seat next to Yamcha as a player was leaving the table.

"Let me introduce you to my friend, Vegeta," Goku claimed.

"Hey, I'm Yamcha," the baseball player greeted him with a smile. Vegeta was hardly able to smirk back with a nod. The sight was quite frightening and Goku's concern surged back in his mind. "Hey, Veg, what about ordering a good vodka for all of us?" he offered.

"Great idea," Vegeta grunted coldly while watching his first card.

"Nineteen," the dealer announced to Yamcha as he turned his second card over, which was a nine after a ten.

"Just like you Vegeta," Yamcha pointed out as Vegeta was just served with his second card.

The Saiyan smirked at him. "I'll have one more," he claimed without a second thought.

Yamcha swallowed hard. The bank had a twenty so the only way to beat it was to get a twenty one, but if his score was higher than that, he'd lose again and the possibility to have a two was thin. "So, will I," Yamcha answered.

His eyes almost bulged out of his head as the dealer flipped a two over for Vegeta and a three for him. Vegeta's smirk widened as he glanced aside at his unfortunate neighbor. "The thing is you have to feel it in your guts. It's all about guts," the Saiyan stated by tinkling his glass against Yamcha's. As if illustrating his theory, Vegeta swallowed his vodka in one gulp under the baseball player's puzzled gaze.

Goku was standing still behind them and giving the events a close look. Yamcha had an awkward chuckle and drank his glass in one go as well. He repressed a cough showing he wasn't used to strong alcohol. Goku relaxed slightly. Vegeta wasn't the sympathetic type, but he wasn't completely clueless when it was about dealing with people. Yamcha was obviously impressed by his self-confidence and willing to keep up with him. As a matter of fact, Vegeta was somehow acting like a leader. He wouldn't inspire sympathy, but he would inspire respect. Goku remembered the waitress' confession. What she had said about him being a Prince matched his behavior and even further, it matched the way Vegeta addressed Nappa. Goku made a mental note to ask his partner about his so-called past as member of a Royal Family.

Meanwhile, the game kept going. Yamcha wasn't quite at ease with Vegeta's cold manners but he would do his best to look unabashed. Everything Vegeta dared, Yamcha would answer it and every time Vegeta would empty his glass, Yamcha would empty his too. However, while Vegeta was winning, Yamcha was badly losing - just as Nappa had promised. Goku tried to pinpoint the dealer's method for cheating so brilliantly, but he wouldn't catch the trick.

After an hour Yamcha was drunk and broke. Truth to be told, Vegeta didn't look completely sober either, but he had piled up an impressive amount of chips. All the watchers were silently staring at him with a kind of respect. Even Yamcha had stopped his cocky talk and he was pale, ogling at Vegeta's winings while he had nothing left.

"Sir, the boss would like to talk to you - in private," the dealer said sternly.

Yamcha had a faint start when he realized the guy was addressing him. A member of the security staff helped him get up by grabbing firmly his arm. "If you don't mind, Sir, would you please come with me?" the man grunted.

Yamcha hopeless eyes searched for Goku and Vegeta, but they just gazed back impassively at him. "I - huh -I have to," Yamcha stuttered, some panic tinging his hesitant voice.

"It won't be long," the security guard added politely as he guided him forcefully to the back of the club.

"Game is on!" the dealer announced as to focus the audience's attention back on the table. The guests went back to their business in a blink of an eye and chatter resumed all around. Vegeta and Goku glanced at each other with some satisfaction. "I guess it's time," Goku mumbled.

He was rewarded by Vegeta's smirk. The Saiyan stood up and left the Blackjack table behind. They headed to the backroom, but at some point, Vegeta stumbled on the way. Goku caught him just in time to avoid him fall flat on the ground. "My, Vegeta, you're wasted. How many vodkas did you drink?" Goku hissed with a frown.

Vegeta struggled out of his grip. "Not enough to prevent me from knocking out a bunch of weenies like Nappa's guy, trust me," he replied in annoyance. Goku considered his unsteady gait. He wasn't sure his partner would be able to make it. If needed, Goku would have been more than pleased to give him a hand, but they needed the baseball player to be impressed by Vegeta's skill. If Goku had to step in, the plan could be ruined. Goku could have slapped himself. He'd known from the very beginning that Vegeta wouldn't make it.

The Saiyan had resumed his unstable gait to the backroom and Goku had little choice but to follow suit with a sigh. When they reached the private part of the club, they found a guy of the security staff smoking near the back door. He raised an eyebrow at Vegeta's sight and repressed a smile. "Hey, Sen. The guys are already in the alleyway taking care of the client. Go ahead," he greeted him while pointing his thumb at the door behind his back.

Vegeta walked straight to the door and went out. Goku rushed behind him. Like Nappa had promised, there were five guys. Goku was stunned to find out one of them was already knocked down on the ground although Vegeta hadn't stepped in yet. One guy was standing behind Yamcha. He'd wrapped his arm around the baseball player's neck strangling him while another was landing a punch in his stomach. Against all odds, Yamcha was able to divert the blow by kicking his fist away. The assailant was caught off guard and almost lost his balance. Goku frowned at the sight. Nappa had promised to send strong guys, but it seemed that Yamcha was quite able to take care of himself.

He had no time to think further as Vegeta dealt a blow in the abdomen of the man Yamcha had just kicked. The henchman doubled over and tumbled down on the ground. Another guy struck Yamcha on the head, causing a dirty sound and a trickle of blood escaping his mouth with . Vegeta looked up at the man and Goku caught a glimpse of horror in his eyes when he met the Saiyan's eyes. Vegeta gave him a formidable uppercut and sent him fly away a few step further.

Goku was speechless. He'd seen Vegeta fight before, but he hadn't expected him to be able of such a feat in his current state of drunkenness. The Saiyan didn't seem to be bothered by the weakness of the light either. He was as quick as usual, if not quicker, and he looked like he was having a blast.

Goku's reflection was interrupted by Yamcha's yelp. When he focused back on the baseball player, he froze instantly. The guy strangling him had pulled out a knife and he'd cut Yamcha somewhere under the chin. Hell, that was nothing near the plan. Before Goku could make a move, Vegeta grabbed the fist holding the knife and snatched it away from Yamcha's skin. Goku hadn't even figured out his move.

Yamcha was panting in pain while Vegeta clenched his fist around the guy's knuckles. There was a little crack like bones slowly crushing and the man gave a slight growl. His last fellow jumped on Vegeta from behind, but he was welcomed by the Saiyan's free elbow sinking right in his jaw. It wasn't enough to knock him out though. He stepped back, waddling on his feet. Goku wondered if he should step in since Vegeta couldn't let go of the hand holding the knife. The opponent he'd just got rid of might have free hands to come back and attack him from behind again. Yet, Vegeta disapproval glare let him know that the Saiyan wanted him to stay at distance.

Vegeta was tightening his grip a little more on the fist brandishing the knife. The blade was now cutting the side of his own palm, but he didn't mind and kept going on until the guy blurted out a yell of pain and let go of the baseball player in order to try to release himself from the Saiyan's clutch. Vegeta threw him away with a powerful circular gesture and he landed right onto his fellow. Both of them crashed down and the knife flew away and hit the floor meters away.

Goku grasped Yamcha as he was stumbling down and sat him on the ground. Vegeta was smirking while contemplating his last opponents' pathetic attempts to get up. They ran away as soon as they were able to struggle to their feet leaving their unconscious friends behind. Only then, Vegeta turned a satisfied face to Goku by licking his injured hand. "Fun, huh?" he growled.

Goku didn't deem it necessary to give any reply and he looked down at Yamcha. "Hey, are you okay? Let me see, you're bleeding."

Yamcha allowed him to lift his chin in order to gauge his wound. Fortunately, it was nothing serious. The cut wasn't deep and relief washed over Goku. He was seething, thinking about how Nappa's guys had been on the verge of screwing up the whole plan. Yamcha was trying to gather his thoughts, sitting on the filthy sidewalk.

"We shouldn't stay here," Goku suggested. They might send more guys after us.

Yamcha gave a weak nod in agreement, but he couldn't bring himself to stand up. He looked up at Vegeta. "Hey, man. Thank you. I'm impressed, no kidding. You're Saiyan, aren't you?" he panted.

Vegeta crossed his arms and stared silently back at him.

"Didn't I mention, Vegeta was part of the Ice-Jinn family's security staff?" Goku resumed. "Needless to say, anyone would be safe by his side, no matter what."

Yamcha had a weak smile. "I see that. Interesting," he whispered.

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	10. 9 Picnic on a battlefield

_Thanks for all the nice things._

 _ **ShadowMajin** beta read this chapter again. I have to thank him for his good job._

 _Unfortunately, he won't be able to keep editing my work, so I have to warn you that I'm not sure what this story might become._ _I have chapters in store but I don't think they can be published without a serious beta and by now, I lack the energy to look for a new angel._

* * *

 **Chapter 9 - Picnic on a battlefield**

Vegeta had been asked to wait in a rather small office. One of the wall was a large window pane offering a breathtaking view of the town right from the top of the Capsule Corps' tower; yet, aside from this detail, the room was sober, bare of any decoration and furnished with nothing other than a desk and the bench the Saiyan was sitting on. For some reason, he had expected something more lavish than this poor decor for his first meeting with the Heiress.

He was still stunned that the night at the gambling club five days before had brought him to this situation. After the fight with Nappa's henchmen, Goku had dragged the baseball player to the filthiest bar of the filthiest neighborhood of West City. Yamcha was still shocked about the way he'd been assaulted - Nappa's idiotic dogs had tried to kill him after all - and he got himself even drunker than he already was. Vegeta had to admit that following his pace had earned him a dreadful hangover.

Goku had been the only one to keep a clear mind and he kept telling Yamcha senseless tales about Vegeta saving his ass countless times in terrible brawls. Yamcha had no trouble buying them all as the strong booze and a deep gratefulness for the Saiyan had seriously altered his ability to think straight. After a while, the alcohol had made the baseball player confident and talkative enough to confess that someone had tried to shoot his girlfriend and him two days ago. Two attempts on his life in two days had turned him upside down and he was crying over the fact that his girlfriend refused to have a bodyguard. That's when Goku had deemed him ripe enough to suggest that she might be easier to coax if said bodyguard was presented as a friend, like, for example, a Saiyan friend with outstanding skills and experience of protection.

Despite his own dizziness, Vegeta had witnessed the whole talk with great interest. Yamcha had been awed at Goku's idea to have him as his girlfriend's bodyguard. Furthermore, when Goku called him back the next day to make sure his drunkenness hadn't erased his memory, the baseball player was convinced that he had been the one to offer the deal and he was worried at the prospect that the Saiyan might refuse. Vegeta had a shiver at the realization that such a moronic-looking guy like Goku could be so good at manipulating people. He'd never seen that part of his partner before. When they'd teamed up for the fall of Freezer, it had mostly been about taking risks in insane dangerous plans. Yet, Goku had not only balls and he also had an accurate perception of people and Vegeta knew too well how dreadful this kind of skill could be as he'd been manipulated for years by the Ice-Jinn.

As a matter of fact, the Capsule Corporation had called Vegeta the next day and an appointment had been scheduled. The interview had taken place in a cramped room that looked more like a police interrogation room than a businessman office. No windows, a plain metallic table and matching chairs. There wasn't even paperwork in sight. The only thing missing was the two way mirror, but the Saiyan had no doubt there were cameras in there.

Considering Capsule Corporation was a very big firm, Vegeta had expected to face several people but a sole guy was waiting for him in the room. He was tall and bald, wearing a stern suit and claiming to be chief of security for Capsule Corp. Except for his muscular frame, he was the typical picture of a polite pencil-pusher. Shinhan was the name. His name and face placed him as Eastern-ish and he was even blessed with a slight accent. He wasn't very talkative at first though. He shook Vegeta's hand and introduced himself but after that, he just sat opposite from him at the table while contemplating the Saiyan for a long moment.

Shienhan's silent scrutiny had been rather puzzling but it hadn't been enough to baffle Vegeta. He assumed that the guy intended to test his nerves. That was a fair part of the game. The Saiyan stayed still with his arms crossed, gazing back at his interlocutor until he would bring himself to talk.

"Yamcha said you were someone special," Shinhan finally stated.

Vegeta shrugged with a smirk. "You'll have to be your own judge, I guess."

For the first time, Shinhan's stoic mask faded and his lips twitched in a slight smile. Vegeta understood that he wouldn't be the type to rely on the baseball player's opinion - which was rather a good point in the Saiyan's mind.

"I'm always my own judge, but my opinion isn't the only one that counts. I'm not sure you know what this job is about. What did Yamcha tell you?" Shinhan resumed.

"He said his girlfriend was in deep need for a serious bodyguard. He said someone tried to shoot her."

The chief of security had a faint frown at the explanation. Vegeta knew exactly what might bother him: a certain baseball player babbling about his girlfriend's life. Shinhan cleared his throat in unease. "What did he tell you about his girlfriend? Do you know her?"

Vegeta remained completely unaffected at the question. Even in his drunkest state Yamcha hadn't disclosed the heiress' name. The hell, he was something of a good boy. Vegeta couldn't confess that he knew he would work for Bulma Briefs in person but he couldn't pretend he was completely clueless either. "Yamcha didn't say much about her and I don't even know her name, but considering the Capsule Corporation seems to be in charge of her security, I assume she's someone working here, or maybe a member of the family running this firm. Does that make a difference?"

Shinhan's features eased off a little and he clasped his hand. "No. I was just asking out of curiosity. Now, should I understand you're an unemployed bodyguard?"

Vegeta had a small chuckle. "Yeah, sort of. I was part of Lord Freezer security; obviously I lost my boss as you know."

At the mention of Freezer, Shinhan repressed a bewildered frown. Vegeta savored the sight as the man was struggling to hide his astonishment. The Saiyan had transmitted his CV - mentioning almost everything but his job at Snapshot - but it seemed the Chief of Security had no time to glance at it. "Freezer? That was - What? Two years ago? What did you do after that?"

Vegeta sighed, "I enjoyed my money. See, I've been working for ten years for the Ice family, but when Lord Freezer was deposed by his father, I knew better than going back to the Ice Empire and I decided to stay in West City. The weather is much nicer and beside, I've been cautious enough to store all my savings in a bank in Central State."

Shinhan smiled at the story. "So, you're some sort of political refugee. You are Saiyan, aren't you?"

"Right, I'm Saiyan - which makes me a political refugee wherever I go, as things stand."

Shinhan pouted. "Saiyan are famous for their skills at fighting and I'm impressed to meet one. You're also smart as far as I can see, and the last but not the least, your past is quite unusual. However, you claim two years of inactivity and enough money to live with, so I'm wondering why you would go for that job - not to mention you don't know exactly what it's about," he pointed out.

Vegeta repressed his growing urge to smirk. Shinhan was nowhere near the fool Yamcha was; it made the game even spicier. "I'm bored," he claimed, "Saiyan are known for their skills at fighting as well as for their restlessness. Yamcha talked about people trying to shoot the girl so I assumed this job would be thrilling. I hate easiness."

Shinhan bit his lips and rested his chin on his clasped hand. "Restlessness, huh? Regarding restlessness, I have to say you might get more than you bargained for. What you say makes sense, though. Why not show me what you can do?"

Vegeta had appreciated that the chat didn't last more than that. He wasn't claiming a job as the lady's companion, but as bodyguard. Moreover he was much more gifted to show his value with his fists than with his tongue. Shinhan had brought him to a sparring room in the Capsule Corp underground floor. Once again, the Saiyan was surprised to find out he would have no other opponent than Shinhan himself. The Chief of Security seemed to read his mind and he gave him a challenging smile, then with no warning whatsoever, he threw a punch to his jaw.

While Vegeta was busy dodging it, Shinhan kicked him in the knees aiming to have him hit the ground. Vegeta was caught off guard but he prevented the contact by grasping his ankle at the last minute. The Saiyan hopped backward dragging his opponent's leg up in the process in an attempt to topple him over. The Eastern man followed the move but he stopped his fall by slamming his hands on the ground and used them as a support to try to kick the Saiyan's face with his free leg. Vegeta arched back to avoid the blow and caught the second ankle in flight. As soon as his firm grip clutched at Shinhan's second leg, he whirled around dragging his opponent along until he had enough momentum to send him fly away. There was a loud tug when Shinhan's back hit the wall and he fell flat on the ground.

Vegeta ran to him in no time and tried to jump straight on him in an attempt to pin him to the ground. Shinhan was fast enough to dodge him by rolling over but the Saiyan was successful jamming his arm under his knee. Lying on his back, Shinhan used his free arm to try a blow to his kneeling opponent. The guy was quicker than expected but Vegeta was now on his guard. He blocked the punch with little effort. Shinhan attempted other strikes but Vegeta stopped them all. The Saiyan was quite amused to see him struggling while he was unable to release his arm from his crushing weight.

Then, Shinhan came to raise his legs to strangle the Saiyan by wrapping them around his shoulders. Before he could do so, Vegeta stood up in a blink setting him free in an unexpected move and the Eastern man got carried away by his own momentum. He found himself upside down and by the time he could gather his wits, the Saiyan grasped the nape of his neck with an iron grip and lifted him up from the ground. He was about to crash his head into the wall when the Chief of Security blurted a yell meaning the end of the sparring.

Vegeta let go of him. Shinhan was panting and massaging his aching neck as he looked up at him. "Man, you live up to your reputation. Considering this was only sparring, I wouldn't like to have to fight you for real."

The Saiyan nodded while adjusting his crumpled shirt. "So? Am I hired?"

Shienhan beamed at him. "I would love to. However, as I told you I'm not the only one to make the decision. Come back here tomorrow and you'll meet the woman you'll have to work for. She'll be harder to coax, but I'll help you, you can trust me."

...

Vegeta was remembering these words as he was now sitting on that leather bench in that deserted room and waiting for the Heiress. He was nervous and he really hoped that the Eastern man would keep his word because if the Heiress refused to hire him, Goku and him would be screwed now that everyone knew Vegeta's face. There was no longer a plan B for them.

Vegeta gave a sigh as he was becoming impatient. He got up and walked to the window to watch the panorama of the town. The weather was cloudy and a slight mist was wrapped around the highest towers. Out of an old habit, Vegeta checked the glass of the window with the tip of his finger. It was thick, probably bulletproof.

"As a matter of fact, it is bullet proof," a female voice confirmed behind him.

Vegeta didn't move. He'd heard her coming in, but he hadn't bothered greeting her. He had been the one waiting for half an hour. He didn't even turn to her and kept his eyes locked on the city. "It wouldn't resist a bomb though," he replied.

"A bomb? At that height?" she mumbled.

"Who knows? Determined people are creative people," he grunted.

She laughed and he turned to her that time. It was the first time he saw her for real. While he'd pictured a very classy woman, very much like all the official photos he'd seen of her, she was wearing a white lab coat over worn out jeans and a simple T shirt carrying the logo of Capsule Corp. Her locks were gathered into a hazy bundle thanks to a pen stuck into her hair and she was sitting on the desk in front of him. She slipped a cigarette between her lips and lit it up. "Are you trying to bargain for your wages, Mr I-forgot-your-name-sorry-that's-rude?" she asked with an amused smile.

"Bargaining my wages?" he repeated with puzzlement.

"Well, you're trying to have me hire you as a bodyguard, so I bet the best way to demonstrate I need you more than you need me is to scare me, right?"

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "Don't you need me either way? Or is it all about babysitting? If that's the case, there's no reason for me to waste my time."

She gazed at him with defiant eyes, her smile lingering on her lips. "Fact is I don't really need you. My friend Tien Shinhan thinks I do."

"And how did he come to that conclusion if I may ask?"

She pouted and tapped nervously her ashes in the tray on the desk. "Well, someone tried to shoot me."

Vegeta leaned his back against the window and crossed his arms. "You know, that's the typical situation of people in need for bodyguards, but you sound like you're thinking otherwise. Are you perhaps bulletproof?"

Bulma scowled at the sarcasm. "Listen, Mr - what's your name again?"

"Ouji. Vegeta Ouji."

"Yeah Ouji, whatever. What I think is that a bodyguard is mainly a nuisance 24 hours a day. I might not be bulletproof, but neither are you. What are you going to do the day that goddamn sniper aims me again? Get shot instead of me?" she spat with some irritation.

Vegeta cocked his head and studied her annoyed face. There was something odd in her reaction. Danger had been part of Vegeta's life from an early age and even though he was used to it, it had never prevented him from feeling fear whenever his life was at stake. Even Freezer had turned frantic whenever his situation had turned critical. Now, this woman had probably spent her entire life in a safe world so the threat of this unknown sniper should be something unfamiliar scaring her to death. She should fear the killer and bless any possible protection. Yet, there she was, bitching about her comfort while her life was endangered. Why? Either she was completely stupid and unaware of reality, or she was hiding something. Both options sounded likely and yet, Vegeta liked the second one better. "I would get shot instead of you if I had to, but I'm trained to avoid such extremes. Most of all, don't worry for me, I'm not so easy to shoot. A bunch of people can vouch for that fact. What about you?"

She looked up at him. Despite her sarcasms and her casual behavior about the situation, he could say she was nervous. She kept quiet for a while as if pondering about what Vegeta had just said. "I'm not easy to shoot either," she whispered with a bitter smile, "Yamcha and Tien said you were someone special with outstanding abilities. Yamcha said I could trust you and nothing bad could happen to me with you around. Still, I don't like the idea to have…"

"It will only be temporary, Bulma." Shinhan's voice cut off. Vegeta and the Heiress turned their head to him at the same time. He was standing at the entrance of the room and staring at the young woman with a concerned face. "It would only last the time it would take for us to figure out who is trying to kill you. We're all worried sick for you," he added with a soft voice.

She lowered her head in unease. "I don't want to have a stranger following me wherever I go, days or night," she mumbled like a stubborn child unamenable to a reasonable speech.

Shienhan stepped to her and rested a hand on her shoulder. "This guy isn't exactly a stranger, he's one of Yamcha's friend," he pointed out.

She gave a wary glance at Vegeta. He realized that uttering Yamcha's name had instantly soothed her reluctance. She studied him with care as if considering him like possible company.

"Yamcha trusts him," Tien insisted.

"Well, if Yamcha does, I suppose I should too," she sighed in resignation. She stubbed out her cigarette and stood up. She walked to Vegeta with her hand stretched out and a faint smile on her lips. "Congratulation, Mr Ouji. Welcome into the amazing world of Bulma Briefs," she uttered with a caustic voice.

He shook her hand, but didn't reply as he was uncertain about the true meaning of her words. They sounded more like a threat than like a welcome. He had never been so close to her before and he couldn't help but study her features. She was a replica in the flesh of the few official pictures he'd seen and the realization that she truly existed was a strange feeling. She gave him a questioning gaze as he was slow to let go of her hand. He looked away immediately when he became aware of his own weird behavior. He could have slapped himself for acting so reckless. It would be a total disaster if she came to suspect the plot behind his hiring.

Yet, she didn't seem to press this further and turned to Shinhan. "I have to go back to my lab now. Chiaotzu is waiting for me downstairs," she claimed.

"I'll join you after lunch," the Eastern man told her

Just when she was about to exit the room she gave a last look at Vegeta. "I guess we'll meet again, soon enough. Have a nice day, Mr Ouji." Vegeta nodded and greeted her back all by noting that her voice had eased off all of a sudden.

When she was gone, Shinhan closed the door and leaned his back against the desk. He crossed his arms calmly and stared at Vegeta with an obvious satisfaction. "I'm glad to see you two get along pretty well."

Vegeta arched his eyebrows in surprise. "I rather had the feeling that she was pissed at the prospect to have me as her bodyguard," he replied.

Shienhan had a smile. "Indeed, she is pissed. I have to be honest with you, she'll need time to trust you and accept you, but she didn't reject you either so that's definitely good news. She had a bodyguard before you, but it was a guy I imposed on her and - uh - the result was quite hectic. She got rid of him by locking him in the men's restroom and disappeared for five hours. These are painful memories for me."

Vegeta frowned at the humiliating fate of his predecessor. He would definitely have to stay on his guard with such a bitch.

"She's not always that temperamental though. She'd been through a lot lately and the threat on her head gets on her nerves," he added to soothe the Saiyan's wariness.

Vegeta shrugged, "I'm sure she is the perfect temperamental type whether there is a threat on her head or not. I can deal with it, I remind you I worked for the Ice Family."

Tien Shinhan nodded. "I'm sure you can. Now, the job is also somehow special. I mean, we have a special way to do things when it's about Bulma's protection and there are some rules you should know before signing the contract."

Vegeta hated the unease tinging his voice. "What sort of rules?"

"First, as you noticed, she doesn't accept anyone around her and that means there's only three people as bodyguard. You, Chiaotzu - you'll meet him soon - and me," Shinhan answered.

"Are you kidding?" Vegeta grunted in reply.

"You said you didn't like easiness," Shienhan reminded.

The Saiyan huffed. "Senseless. How do we do that?"

"You work two days in a row, then Chiaotzu watches her one day and I do another day - that is day and night. Is it a problem?"

Vegeta gaped. A problem? That was much more than a problem. He hadn't planned to spend 48 hours non-stop with such a woman and he wasn't sure his nerves would survive. On the other hand, he reminded himself that the Heiress security wasn't his real concern and following her night and days would actually make his investigations much easier and much faster.

He closed his mouth in an annoyed pout. "Add 20% to my wages and it'll do."

Shienhan scolwed at the offer but he nodded wordlessly.

"What else?" Vegeta mumbled.

"The sacred rule: no plan. Except in some rare cases, you never know in anticipation where you go and what you do in a day, and you won't be allowed to carry anything personal during duty. Especially, you'll have to leave your personal phone at the Capsule - as a safety against anyone willing to track down your every move. We will provide you a professional phone each day," Shinhan explained.

Vegeta gritted his teeth. This wouldn't help the job at all. Goku needed to know what the goddamn heiress was up to and he needed to stay in touch with Vegeta. How could he snap any pictures otherwise? "This is insane. This means I can never check the places where we go," the Saiyan spat.

"I'll have staff doing this for you and reporting anything unusual. Come on, you're Saiyan. I'm sure you were into some underground wars. The unexpected shouldn't scare you," Shinhan teased him.

Vegeta walked away from the window and up to the Eastern man. "I had battle plans even during the wars I went through. This is nothing like underground war, this is much more like a picnic on a battlefield."

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	11. 10 Clueless

_Hey. I decided to keep publishing my texts although I still have no beta. I thank all the supporting people who encouraged me to make it further. However, it means that from now on, you might find some queer grammar up and there. I apologize in anticipation. Maybe I'll find a new beta later in the story._

 _Thanks for all the reviews and nice things so far._

* * *

 **Chapter 10 - Clueless**

When he was done with the the Saiyan, Tien went back to his office with an odd mix of relief and weariness nestled in his guts. He took care to close the door to let everyone know he wanted some time on his own and dropped into his leather armchair. The stillness of the room was hardly disturbed by distant whispers from the corridors where the other employees were busy. Tien ignored them and tossed his head back, his eyes shut in search for complete quietness. Truth was his life was driving him nut those days. Bulma was getting more exhausting than ever since the goddamn sniper was lurking around. Tien couldn't blame her for that but he wasn't sure that he would be able to keep going on at that pace very long.

He rubbed his temple to soothe his slight headache. He was hoping that the guy they had just hired as her new bodyguard would somehow relieve the pressure. He really prayed for that. Bulma had been too neurotic to trust anyone else than himself and Chiaotzu so far and they were both drained to watch her day and night. She'd told them she didn't need them to stay constantly by her side but Tien was aware that the danger could surge any moment. Hell, they even tried to shoot her when she was home with Yamcha. If it hadn't been for the bulletproof window, the baseball player would be playing in the other world's team by now.

Yet, even though the bodyguard would help keeping Bulma safe, Tien still needed to get rid of the threat once and for all and despite his efforts, he had to admit that he had no clue about who was aiming the Heiress' death. The only thing he could say was that whoever the sniper was, he was daring and well-informed. It was stressful to track down such uncatchable, dreadful foe.

Tien opened his eyes and contemplated the stack of papers resting on his desk. The secretary had brought it while he was out. He'd always hated paperwork and he had no will for that, now less than ever, but his eyes glimpsed Vegeta's photo clipped to the top sheet of the pile and he couldn't help but give it a closer look. The documents were indeed the new bodyguard's file. He went through it for a while. The guy's CV was attached to the contract. Truth was Tien had hardly granted a glance at it so far for he wasn't the type to trust papers. The only reason why he had considered Vegeta's candidature had been Yamcha's recommendation in the first place. Now, Shienhan was curious to learn a bit more about this weird personality.

Vegeta Ouji was Saiyan. As such he'd been a soldier like many of his compatriots. On that matter there was few doubt the CV was true to reality. Tien couldn't help but wonder what kind of battle Vegeta had chosen to go into. Had he been by his King's side when the Ice Empire had invaded his country? Maybe he'd been somewhat too young at that time. Then, had he been part of the rebel forces when the Ice-Jinns had the upper hand on the young Prince? Or had he been a good little soldier doing exactly what the governing power had ordered by chasing down the rebellious troopers trying to get the throne back? Had he been by his Prince's side when the kid had turned against the Ice-Jinns? More likely he might have been a mercenary only running for his own sake. Tien gave a sigh. The answers to his questions didn't matter. Fact was that Ouji made it surviving the bloody war with the Ice Empire. Very few Saiyan could claim the same feat. The guy had even been cunning enough to be spared and hired as member of the Ice-Jin security staff and that was enough proof that he would be able to deal with Bulma.

Vegeta's life sounded exotic and unusual to say the least and Tien wondered how Yamcha could know such man. Tien wasn't sure he wanted to know. He was aware that Yamcha wasn't exactly the Prince Bulma liked to picture. As a close friend of the Heiress - as well as Chief of Security of the Capsule Corp - Tien had investigated on him from the very beginning of his relationship with Bulma. The baseball player was indeed nothing near flawless, but Tien had come to the conclusion that his liking for Bulma was sincere and thus he hadn't deemed necessary to disclose anything to her. However, Tien kept in mind that Yamcha's instinct about people was definitely not reliable.

Reading further the papers, Tien went through the investigation he'd ordered about Ouji. The cops of West City had no report about him and the Immigration services had confirmed that he'd arrived in town two years ago as member of Lord Freezer's security staff. At that time, Ouji had been a diplomatic traveler and the administration of West City had no accurate information about who he was. As a Saiyan, he'd been granted the status of Political refugee after the Ice Jinn's crisis and any information about his former life were impossible to check due to the Saiyan wars and Vegitasei being razed to the ground. All this matched the claim of his CV fairly enough. A valuable recruit that Bulma might trust as Yamcha's friend- that was something unhoped for.

Even if Tien was aware that Bulma would need time to accept the Saiyan as bodyguard, he had no doubt that Yamcha's blessing would make everything easier. She was so keen on her baseball player. The reason for this particular liking was beyond Tien but he had given up his attempt to understand her years ago.

Bulma and him had met as teenagers. He'd just left his old master's house with Chiaotzu and he was well-determined to enjoy life at that time. Bulma was mostly a cocky girl holding the world as hers. He remembered their first encounter. Chiaotzu had stolen something to eat on a village's market and she'd rattled on him, causing a fight with the salesman. Tien had knocked the guy out effortlessly but Bulma had still been reckless enough to chase them. The situation had turned insane when Tien had realized he couldn't bring himself to hit such a frail girl. That's when they had stumbled across a local army bullying people all around. Before the three of them knew it, they got themselves into big troubles and when they made it through, they were bound so deeply that they could called themselves friends.

Thinking about that time was something that could still have him smile. They were all so clueless then. And free. Nothing near what they were today. Bulma had traveled the whole world searching for a very rare material that ended up allowing her and her father to invent some revolutionary new technology. Thanks to that, she was now one of the richest women in the world but she'd lost the freedom she'd always cherished. Rather ironically Tien realized that she'd spent half of her life searching a treasure while she might spend the other half regretting to have found it. Maybe, that was the reason why she was always so restless all the time. She needed adventure and thrills and her life as business woman and notorious genius couldn't give her that.

When her firm started to become famous and rich, she'd offered Tien to work for the Capsule and he'd accepted. With some hindsight, Tien could say that it had been a way to stay close to one another. As different as they were, Bulma and him had something in common. They were both lonely nature with few friends. Truth was Bulma had become Tien's only true friend and he suspected he was the same for her. After traveling the world like they did, they had just been scared to go back to their natural loneliness.

As Chief of Security, he wasn't supposed to care for Bulma's own personal safety. It was mostly about preventing industrial espionage, but things had turned somewhat hectic lately. He'd wished more than once to go back to a more carefree life, but for some reasons Chiaotzu and him had always sticked to the Capsule and Bulma's family. Whether it was a lack of will or some kind of cowardice, he couldn't say, yet he knew deep down that this life wasn't for him. He was the solitary, wild type, far from the respected guy dressed in a suit he'd become. He vowed once again to himself that when Bulma would be out of danger, he would leave West City behind.

He contemplated Vegeta Ouji's photos clipped on the contract. This man was something more than a mere bodyguard, that was for sure. He'd fought him and he could say Vegeta was skilled and experienced a notch ahead what was required from a bodyguard. Maybe when all this would be over, if Bulma ended up trusting him enough, the Saiyan would be willing to take over as Chief of the Security of the Capsule. Why not?

Tien pushed the papers aside and glanced at his watch. He should forget his concerns for a while. He thought about the girl and it felt like a ray of sun piercing the clouds of his worries. He could hardly believe he had a date. Or was he allowed to call it a date? For now, it was just a quick lunch in a small restaurant. Not really a date. A might-be date.

He hadn't been the one to organize it, the girl had initiated the whole thing. She'd knocked at his car's window the day before as he was sitting quietly in his car and reading messages on his phone. He'd been wary at first. It was pouring outside and the first thing he saw when he opened his window an inch had been her wide hopeless eyes with soaked dark locks sticking to her forehead.

"Excuse me Sir, could you help me please? A… a guy just stole my purse." Her voice had been as distressed as her eyes and the rain running down her hair and along her cheeks had made the sight even more dramatic. He didn't give much thought to his next move and opened the passenger door at once. "Come in, don't stay outside."

She had a second thought and he felt very awkward to realize his offer sounded somewhat bold. Yet, the girl ended up sitting carefully on his passenger's seat. "Thank you, I'm soaked. I hope I won't mess up your car. It looks like the new and expansive type," she said shyly.

Tien gave her a comforting smile. "Don't worry for that. Are you hurt?"

As a reply, she shook her head. Her face was childish but for some reasons he felt she might be older than she appeared. There was something special about her but he couldn't say if he liked it or not. "Do you want me to drive you somewhere? To a police station?"

"No, don't bother about that. Would you mind to lend me your phone so that I can call someone to pick me up?"

Each time she asked for something with her little voice, Tien felt like obliging at once and he handed her his phone before he even knew it. She had a grateful smile and watched the device with some hesitation and a slight frown. "Huh, I think it's locked," she said. He was so numb that he didn't react to her statement. He felt like a fool when she gave back the phone by repeating, "It's locked."

His unease was so overwhelming that he needed two attempts to unlock his own phone. Damn, he almost blocked it. "You know how it works?" he stuttered awkwardly when he handed her the unlocked device. She chuckled at his question and he felt completely dumb once again.

"My phone isn't as elaborate as this one but I think I'll make it," she replied teasingly. He stiffened as he realized that his own sake would command to shut up and keep his eyes locked on the rain pouring on the windowpane.

He tried not to listen when she spoke, but they were sitting in a damn car, how could he ignore her talk? "Hey, it's Lilly, I… Someone stole my purse and… I'm fine, everything's fine, don't worry. Could you pick me up? I'll wait for you at the Library near the Capsule Corp. Downtown… A nice guy lend me his phone so that I could warn you… Whatever. I'll be there in fifteen minutes or so. See you"

Tien truly did his best not to listen but his mind couldn't help but note the voice on the phone sounded like a male's voice. When she hung up, he felt shy. "So, your boyfriend's coming to pick you up?", he asked. He could have slapped himself for saying that. Why that word " _boyfriend_ _"?_ Why not just _"friend"?_ He'd uttered the word unwillingly but he sounded like he had listened to her talk on the phone and was now interested in knowing whether she had a boyfriend or not.

She smirked in a way that made him even more awkward. "I have no boyfriend. My brother will pick me up at the library. Thanks for the favor."

He took the phone she was handing back to him. "It's pouring. I can drive you there if you want." He could have screamed at his own suggestion. Everything he said sounded so much like a lame sweet-talk, and yet he couldn't leave her under the pouring rain, could he? She gave him a mischievous pout and he caught a glimpse of amusement in her eyes. He wasn't far from blushing and he hated the situation. "It would be very nice from you," she replied in a low voice.

When she climbed at last out of the car, he felt relieved. She leaned her head through the door frame of the car. "Thank you, Mister… What's your name?" she asked.

"Tien. My name is Tien," he claimed with an odd raspy voice.

She grinned. "My name is Lilly. Thank you, Tien. Huh, I don't have much time right now but would you like us to eat lunch with me tomorrow? That eastern Restaurant, right over there is great. I could pay you back for your help."

He gaped and remained stupidly speechless. She chuckled. "I'll be there at noon either way," she claimed. Then, she slammed the door without waiting further for his answer. He watched her figure running in the rain to the library's main door. When she was out of sight, he blinked in astonishment. What did she just say?

She'd said she would be there at noon. Tien was hesitant to believe she would really be there. Maybe it had only been a joke. Maybe she'd already forgotten. Even if she came, what would they talk about anyway? They didn't know each other. It would just be another awkward moment and he would feel stupid during the whole meal, just like he had felt in the car. On the other hand, he really wanted to give it a try. He hardly ever befriended with people and for some reasons, this girl looked like something fresh and new in his life. He didn't really care if she was meaning the lunch as a date or as a mere civilized thank. It could be a casual moment away from the stress of his job and that was priceless.

He stood up and grabbed his coat, while calculating that he could still be on time at the Eastern restaurant. As he opened the door to exit his office, he stumbled across Chiaotzu. The little man was standing shyly on his doorstep. Tien gave him a smile. "Is something wrong, Zu? Aren't you with Bulma?" he asked.

"She's been working in her lab for two hours. I'm bored," the little man replied sheepishly.

His features were concerned and Tien rested a hand on his shoulder as to comfort him. "I'll take over after lunch. I swear. I know it's boring but you know why we have to do that, don't you?"

Chiaotzu nodded forcefully. "We have to protect her from mean people," he uttered.

"Exactly. But I found someone to help us. A bodyguard. You'll meet him soon. Thanks to him, you won't have to watch Bulma for so long anymore." Tien resumed.

Chiaotzu's face eased off in joy. "A new friend?"

Tien couldn't help a smile. Chiaotzu was someone special. Tien knew people would rather call him a halfwit, but to him Chiaotzu was just special. His way of looking at the world was always innocent no matter how cruel life could have been to him. "Not exactly a friend. I pay him to protect Bulma," Tien tried to explain.

Chiaotzu pouted in an effort to understand the difference it made. "You pay him but he's still our friend, isn't he?" he carried on.

"Yes," Tien sighed as he was giving up his attempt to correct Chiaotzu's point of view. "Now go back to Bulma and I'll bring you some candies when I come back. I won't be long."

Chiaotzu nodded again and trotted away along the corridor heading to the elevator. Tien watched him with concern. He knew Bulma's security was something too much for the little man. When Chiaotzu was a child, their Master had been willing to get rid of him due to his inability to understand things as quickly as he should. However as strange as it stood, the little boy happened to be gifted at fighting and he was incredibly brisk when it was about handling weapons. Against all odds, Chiaotzu's gestures and reflex could be as quick as his brain was slow. This unexplainable skill saved him but the Master still couldn't get accustomed to his special disciple and as they were teenager he decided to banish him. Tien knew too well what sort of life would await the naive Chiaotzu out of the Martial Art School they had grown up in. He was too confident and too unaware of people's vices to make it in the outside world. Furthermore, the Master's will to chase him had Tien realize that he couldn't keep following blindly such a dark personality. The Master was tough and an impressive fighter but he was nothing near a valuable person.

Thus, Tien had left the Crane School behind with his little brother. Chiaotzu wasn't exactly Tien's brother but they had arrived the same day at the school as they were still kids and it meant a brother's bound to them. After all this years, Tien had never regretted his choice and truth was he wouldn't be able to live away from his little friend now.

He adjusted the collar of his coat and made his way out of the building of Capsule Corp. The Eastern restaurant was just next to the library hardly five minutes from there. Tien felt nervous when he pushed the door open and entered the place. It wasn't very big. The whole room was painted in red and gold and the walls and ceiling were carved with Gods and Dragons. A petite woman stepped to him and greeted him with a welcoming beam and an Easternish accent. "I… Huh… I'm supposed to join someone here. A young woman with dark blue hair," he stammered in her native language. The woman nodded with a knowing face and pointed at a table in the back of the room.

Tien was stunned to find out the girl was here. She'd said she would be but still he'd thought she might have changed her mind afterward. She waved at him.

"Tien! I'm glad you came. I wasn't sure you would," she told him when he sat opposite from her.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

She laughed at his reply and he realized he was making a fool of himself again. Why should he apologize for accepting her invitation? "Don't be sorry, you saved my day yesterday. Now I want you to relax and enjoy that meal. I'm starving, aren't you?"

He smiled. Yes, he was starving too. And yes, he was willing to relax and enjoy that meal. It had been the main reason why he came here in the first place. No need to think further. Just take the time to eat quietly without worrying for security, sniper or Bulma's fits of temper.

"Let's play a game," she offered, "We don't know each other, so why not try to guess each other's tastes and order each other's meal? This would be a good start to learn about each other, whaddayathink?"

His smile widened. "Let's try that. It can be fun," he accepted.

Her face turned stern and she squinted at him as if focusing deeply on him. "Okay, I'll say you have a very,very serious job and a very expansive car. You're a reserved nature and you're not used to eat with unfamiliar girl out of the blue. You like to have everything planned. Am I right?"

He couldn't help a chuckle. "Right."

"Your turn," she claimed, "what about me?"

He stared at her. She had big black eyes and a sort of innocence was shining through her features. It was what made her look younger than she certainly was. She looked 20 but she was likely past 25 if not 30. He didn't give a damn about her age though. "I'd say your name is Lilly, you like Easternish food and books. You have a brother and you're thoughtless enough to climb up any stranger's car. What about that?"

She smiled mischievously. "Pretty good. Lilly is a nickname though."

He raised his eyebrows. "A nickname? Why? What's your real name?"

She shrugged. "Maybe I'll tell you one day. Let's order something to eat, now."

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	12. 11 Small talk in a messy kitchen

_Hey there, thanks everyone for your support. I checked this chapter a thousand times. Not sure it was enough though._

* * *

 **Chapter 11 – Small talk in a messy kitchen.**

"You're looking upset, is something wrong?" Goku asked his son.

The child was sitting opposite from him at the kitchen's table and sulking over his untouched soda. He looked up at his father with a slight frown. His pout told Goku that the kid was indeed bothered by something special.

Gohan averted his eyes away from him and he contemplated the room they were sitting in for a while. "Your place is always so messy, Dad. I wonder how you can live there."

Goku was surprised by the statement. His son didn't hardly blame him for anything, even when he might have good reasons to. Besides Goku didn't figure out why the child would care for the tidiness of his apartment considering he scarcely set a foot in the place. Truth was the sink was overcrowded with dirty dishes while stack of papers were piled up on the ground in lack of space anywhere else. As a matter of fact, it was nothing near Chichi's spotless house. "I guess you're right, son, but I'm pleased that way. I don't spend much time here anyway," Goku replied with a shrug.

Gohan looked down back at his soda, some annoyance displayed on his face. "I know. You stay at home with Mum most of the time. She says you're unable to take care of yourself. Why don't you just move back with us, then?"

Goku pressed his lips together in embarrassment. "Maybe one day, I will. Why not?" he uttered blankly.

Gohan replied with a disbelieving grunt which twisted Goku's guts even more. The kid stared once more at the surrounding chaos. "Meanwhile, you should at least pay someone to clean a bit, don't you think?" he resumed.

Goku was disturbed by his son's behavior. First, the kid had come to visit him completely out of the blue while he hardly ever came to his father's place. He'd showed up with concern on his face and he'd been silent most of the time. Goku knew Gohan well enough to understand he needed to talk about something but couldn't bring himself to do it. Now that Goku had been able to draw some words out of him, Gohan was lecturing him as if father and son had switched places. This wasn't Gohan's usual self and Goku was pretty sure the kid hadn't come to debate about the cleanliness of his house.

Goku rested his chin on his palm in a patient stance. "I don't want to have someone nosing around in my stuff and I told you I'm fine that way. Does that bother you that much?"

He was watching his son's reaction with care. When Gohan met his eyes, the child's features softened a bit and he smiled. He shrugged. "No. I don't really care as a matter of fact."

Goku smiled back. "So? You said you had something to tell me," he insisted although Gohan had never really hinted such thing.

Hesitation was still gleaming in the boy's eyes. "I'll be part of a Junior local tournament next week. Will you be there?" he claimed.

"Sure. I wouldn't miss that." Goku confirmed.

"We're meeting the North District's club. They have really good fighters there and you remember they beat me two years ago. I can't let them get away with it," Gohan explained.

"Of course, you can't. I'm sure you will win this time," Goku claimed.

"Will you train me on Friday evening?" Gohan asked with pleading eyes.

"Huh, I'll do my best. I'll pick you up around 7 if Mum's okay with that."

Gohan nodded. "I'll ask her and let you know."

The boy's mood went back to silence. Goku was aware that the tournament still wasn't the true reason of his son's visit. In normal times, it was something worth a simple call. There was something else. Something serious enough to annoy the kid and Gohan wasn't a nature easily annoyed. Gohan's reluctance to talk to him filled Goku with a dull panic but he did his best to hide it. "Tell me, kid," he murmured.

Gohan gave him a quick glance. He started to toy awkwardly with his glass. "There's a new girl training with us at the club."

Goku repressed a grin as relief washed over him. A girl. That was a fair subject to make his boy nervous. "A girl? A pretty girl?" he repeated mischievously.

Gohan looked up at him in bewilderment. As he saw his father's knowing expression, he frowned. "Dad, this nothing about me being in love or anything gross like that," he grumbled.

"Falling in love is nothing gross," Goku argued.

"It's nothing interesting either and it's definitely not my type anyway," the child grunted.

"Why not? You're ten now, so I guess this is something to be expected soon enough. When it will happen, you won't find it gross or uninteresting, believe me," Goku says as he was trying hard to silence his chuckle.

"It won't happen to me. I really don't see the point if this is about -" Gohan interrupted himself and Goku felt something painful clenching his heart.

The kid looked down back at his soda and sighed. "Whatever," he resumed, "This girls is Satan's daughter. She's very good at fighting and all. I can say she's constantly checking my performance because she knows I'm your son and - I don't know, it's like she wants to beat me because her father hadn't the opportunity to win on you."

"You know it will never happen. I'm sure you're much better than her. Is it what bothers you?" Goku replied calmly.

"I know I'm stronger than her. That's not the point. The point is I feel bad because some kids make fun of her because of the picture we took the other night when her father was walking his dog."

Goku blinked. "Why should you feel bad about that? She doesn't even know who took the picture. Did you tell her?"

Gohan stared at his father with a frown. "Of course not. It's just - I feel like everything is somehow my fault."

Goku raised his eyebrows. "Your fault? Why should it be your fault? Were you the one to pick up these awful pajamas for Satan? Were you the one to put this silly smile on his face? You weren't. The picture we took shows him exactly like he is and fact is it's a bit different from what he likes to pretend to be. It's just his true self for all to see," he explained.

Gohan's face turned thoughtful as he was pondering about his father's speech. "But Dad, Videl has nothing to do with it and some kids are really mean with her," he insisted.

Goku shrugged. "Then, those kids are the ones to blame if they're stupid enough to put the blame on the daughter for the father's flaws. What does that have to do with you? I'm sure this girl is used to enduring her father's fame either way. You shouldn't bother about it."

Gohan nodded but his father could read a stubborn uncertainty on his features. "Still. I feel bad for her and I was thinking that if I have to fight her one day, I'll let her win. Like an apology."

Goku gaped in astonishment. "Gohan, it's ridiculous, you can't do that!" he exclaimed in disapproval.

The kid lowered his head sheepishly at his father's reaction yet Goku still wasn't sure if it meant Gohan agreed with him. "You can't," he repeated as if trying to hammer the idea into his son's brain.

Gohan stood up by grumbling something Goku didn't grasp. Then, the boy grabbed his bag. "Thanks for the advice, Dad but I have to go now. My lunch break is about to end," he announced.

"Wait. You don't think anymore about allowing this girl to beat you, do you?" Goku asked once more as he didn't trust the scowl on his boy's face.

"I don't know Dad. Would it be so shameful?" he retorted while strapping his backpack.

"That's not the point, Gohan. Let's talk about that later again,"

Gohan gave him half smile. "Whatever you want. I have to go now. Don't forget Friday around 7." He waved at his father and exited the apartment.

Goku sighed in concern as soon as he was gone. Gohan was still young and naive and yet he was starting to consider things in a more personal way. Goku wouldn't mind considering it was the natural process of growing up, but allowing anyone to beat him in a fight was something too shocking for the former Champion's taste. It could only be a thoughtless idea and he truly hoped Gohan would give up to such madness. The more Goku pondered about it, the more he felt that Gohan would change his mind provided he found the right words to convince him. Gohan wouldn't disobey him, would he?

As he was mulling over his talk with his son, Goku's eyes fell on the papers he'd been working on before Gohan's arrival. His concern disappeared instantly as he reached out a small note with a phone number scribbled on it. Shienhan's personal phone number. Priceless. His mood cheered up at once.

Goku's net was closing in on the Heiress. He realized that his first attempt to track her down had failed because of his stubborn will to work alone. He could catch an ordinary prey alone but she wasn't exactly an ordinary prey. However, she wasn't an uncatchable prey either. Provided you had a valuable help, she wasn't unreachable and Goku had all the necessary help.

Most of his hope were resting on Vegeta and he prayed that the Saiyan would make it being hired as bodyguard, but beside him Goku was blessed with the temporary secretary and Lunch. Lunch was an insane cost but she was the hell of an efficient investigator. No surprise he'd been tricked by her by the time he was a Martial Artist. He hadn't stood a chance then.

She had been the one to get Shienhan's personal number. Goku didn't know exactly how she made it but she did. She just told him he would receive a phone call from Shienhan's phone and he shall just register the number.

Thus, Goku had a call from a girl claiming to be Lilly the day before. If it hadn't been for this name which was Lunch's alias when she worked undercover, Goku wouldn't have been able to recognize her voice. He'd played the role she offered him very professionally, pretending to be worried for her and asking where she was calling from. _A nice guy lend me his phone_.

Yeah. Goku could say Shienhan was a nice guy - too nice for his own sake and too nice to withstand Lunch's basic tricks. He was even so nice that Lunch claimed afterward that she might have further contacts with him in case Goku needed more than a phone number.

Goku had no doubt what "more contacts" might mean. Lunch was an attractive woman though not exactly the reporter's taste - especially since her attempt to dye her hair into black had turned into an awful dark blue - and she knew how to handle men. Shienhan was really a nice guy but it didn't prevent him from being a fool.

Goku didn't mind the way as long as she was able to keep an eye on him. He paid her well and hinted that she would get even more if she was able to get more information. She'd winked at him by pocketing the money but did no promise.

Now Goku was wondering about the best use he could have of Shienhan's number.

Bulma Briefs would only trust three people. Her personal secretary, which was seemingly out of the race for health reason. Tien Shinhan, whose number was now stored in Goku's phone. And the dumb little Chiaotzu who wouldn't make a move without Shienhan's approval. Chiaotzu knew nothing valuable or if he did, his talk wouldn't be reliable. Furthermore, Shienhan would always watch him so it was hard to go close to him. For that reason, Goku had given up to use him for his investigation.

A harsh knock at the door snatched him out of his meditation. He recognized the careless brutal way as Saiyan. "Come in, Vegeta. I'm in the kitchen," he answered.

The Saiyan stepped in. He was still wearing the suit he'd slipped in for the interview with the Heiress and Goku froze at the sight. Vegeta looked sort of classy but rather the dreadful icy type, more like a killer than like a top-model. Goku remembered what the waitress had said back at Nappa's club. _A Prince._

"Any beer in your goddam fridge?" the newcomer asked as he was rummaging the mess in the fridge.

"In the bottom drawer. Help yourself," Goku replied absently, his eyes locked on his visitor.

Vegeta walked to the table by loosening his tie and dropped on the chair Gohan had just sit on minutes before. He pushed the kid's untouched soda to Goku's side and took a sip of his beer.

"So? How did it go?" Goku asked expectantly.

"They hire me," Vegeta stated.

Excitement washed over Goku and he beamed. "Great. How was it? Did you meet her?How is she for real?"

Vegeta stared at him coldly. "She's quite common, rather vulgar to be honest. Bitchy and self-centered like only millionaires can be. You'd be disappointed."

Goku pouted and shrugged. "Weird. I always figured out that she would be somewhat special but it doesn't matter. Pilaf isn't expecting us to write an article about her personality. We got the story already but we need pictures by now. Tell me how you think we can do it."

Vegeta took another sip from his can and sighed. "It won't be as easy as we hoped. She's the hell of a paranoid, you know that. The rules imposed on me as bodyguard are completely crazy. Set aside the fact that I can't display my boss' identity, I'm not allowed to keep anything personal with me while on duty and I'm not informed about anything in anticipation."

Goku was listening with great interest. "Does that mean you won't be able to tell me ahead about her schedule?" he grumbled.

The Saiyan nodded. "Exactly. I'll never know where we're going and what for. I'll always start and end my duty at the Capsule Corp's building. That's all they told me. That, and they'll take my personal phone away and give me a professional one for my working time.

Goku grabbed a pen and toyed with it while pondering about Vegeta's explanation. "Maybe we could talk through that phone, pretending you keep in touch with your family. We could agree about a code and-"

"Personal calls won't be allowed with that phone. Shienhan told me it was a caution to prevent anyone trying to use me to locate the Heiress. I think we should be careful to respect these rules. I have no doubt they will check my every move and I wouldn't like to screw up. It would be very bad for us," Vegeta cut off.

Goku frowned, his eyes still glued to the pen he was fidgeting with. "A bug, then? You could keep a bug on you. They won't check some of your intimate places, I guess," he suggested.

Vegeta glared at him. "This could be an idea but for now, I'd rather be cautious. I wouldn't like to get caught before I could know anything interesting. I'm starting tomorrow evening. The duty lasts 48 hours. I'll see how it turns and after that, we can have a better view on the best choice to make," he replied.

"48 hours?" Goku whistled by looking up at him, "That's a long time to watch her closely. I bet you'll get spicy details we didn't even hoped for."

Vegeta gritted his teeth. "I'm not too pleased about spending so much time with her but I can't deny that it might make things easier for us."

"I'll have to keep in touch with you though. We need pictures. Pictures are the most bankable things," Goku reminded.

"I'll do my best to give you a call if I can but you'll have to react in real time. Furthermore, I suspect they will investigate on me, so I think it best if we avoid direct contact for a while," Vegeta offered.

"Lunch could be our messenger if needed."

Vegeta scowled at the name. "Her again? I don't trust this woman," he grunted.

Goku smirked. He'd always thought Lunch and Vegeta were somehow alike and it was the reason why they wouldn't go along very well. They were both his most precious partners though. "She's reliable, believe me. She was able to get Shienhan's personal number for me and she's working on getting even more information from him. As long as I pay her, she'll be our most efficient ally."

"Shienhan?" Vegeta growled in surprise.

Goku gave a nod. "He's the heart of the Heiress' security. I thought it would be interesting to have more than the information you'll have access to. I'll take care of the baseball player. How does it sound?"

Vegeta's gaze was dark. Goku could say he hadn't expected him to be so well-organized and it filled the former champion with pride to let him know that he was always the one ahead. "Don't forget our deal, Goku, you're supposed to share everything with me. Don't try to fool me," the Saiyan resumed with a sharp voice.

"I won't, don't worry. All you have to do is open your eyes and ears and figure out the best way to settle a little shooting of the lovebirds. I'm sure, it won't be difficult for someone like you," Goku replied with cheers tinging his voice.

Vegeta sipped the rest of his beer without a word. He looked unaffected by all the good news but Goku suspected him to hide the fact that he was impressed by his partner's work. The Saiyan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand when he was done with the beer. "I wonder if this sweet love story is much of an interesting story though," he uttered.

Goku was taken aback by the statement. They have been working on it for the past weeks and now Vegeta was questioning the usefulness of their efforts. Goku assumed the Saiyan's pride was rather hurt by the realization that Goku had been the one to make up all their plans. "It's enough to fill Pilaf with awe and our pocket with dough," Goku cracked.

"Certainly but Pilaf is Pilaf and the readers are something else. Maybe another topic would break Snapshot's sales record better than a lame romance and I remind you that we're supposed to get a part of the issue's benefits," Vegeta replied calmly.

Goku rested his chin in his palm in a disbelieving stance. "And what would it be, if I may ask?"

Vegeta toyed nervously with his empty can likely musing over what he should answer. "Never wonder about who would like to kill her?" he asked.

Goku raised his eyebrows. "Well, it could be anyone considering her fame. A maniac, a competitor trying to scare her or even some of Yamcha's crazy fangirls, who knows? Do you even have a hint about that? Why do you bother?"

Vegeta was watching blankly at the can turning between his fingers. "When I met her, there was something bothering me. She's not scared. At least, not as scared as she should. I'd say she's mostly 'nervous' and it's not natural."

Goku rolled his eyes. "I didn't know you were an expert in human feelings but whatever, what do you have in mind then?"

The Saiyan stopped playing with his can and gazed at Goku. "I might not be an expert in human feelings but I'm an expert in _fear,_ trust me. This woman knows something about the killer after her and that's why she isn't as scared as she should be. I'm not sure of myself but I'd say that she hired the sniper herself."

Goku gaped at the idea. He remained speechless for a moment. "But… Why would she do that? It doesn't make sense."

Vegeta shrugged. "I have no idea but I'd like to know."

Goku shook his head. This talk was going nowhere. It was all about Vegeta's instinct and they didn't need theories and assumption, they needed pictures and heartbreaking stories. "No offense but what you tell me sounds crazy. Why not keep going on with the baseball player and whenever your hear something useful about that killer, we can see if there's anything interesting we could drag about it?"

As a reply, Vegeta's fingers drummed on the table while weighing up his partner's offer. Goku feared he' irritated him, but his story was insane. Goku had to admit he would eagerly buy any details about the person willing to kill the Heiress. Yet, finding out who this person was was a much tougher work than investigating on the Heiress' love life and Goku knew Pilaf would pay well enough for the romance.

"Okay," Vegeta sighed. "We'll do as planned. Just keep an eye on Shienhan, he might have information about the sniper."

Goku was relieved to hear the Saiyan's speech back to reason and he gave him a beam. Vegeta didn't return the smile. Instead, he stood up in order to leave. Once again, Goku was taken aback by the way he looked with his black suit and his mind went back to the waitress' confession some days before. He'd thought about it a lot. He'd even checked out the History of Vegitasei in search for pictures. Yet, the scarce photos of the Royal family he'd found were blurry and old and he hadn't been sure if Vegeta could be the kid on them. He needed to ask him.

"I heard something weird about you, back at Nappa's club" he stated hesitantly.

Vegeta froze and had a questioning frown. His features formed a warning sign as not to ask any questions but Goku wasn't the type to care for warning sign. "Someone told me you were a Saiyan Prince, or should I say a Saiyan 'Sen'."

Vegeta blinked. "So what? Do you intend to bow on my way? I would love it if you ask."

Goku had a shrill. "So, that's true. Are you indeed the little Prince?" he whispered.

The Saiyan's eyes flared in anger. "Don't you dare calling me that name," he hissed.

Goku was caught off guard by the dull rage in his voice. Vegeta grabbed the back of the chair before him and he clenched his fists so hard on it that Goku thought he was about to break the chair apart. The Sayian leaned forward to him and resumed. "If you knew Vegitsei's History, you'd know that this was how the Ice-Jinns named me as a way to mock me and my people."

Goku felt abashed. "I… I gave a look at Vegitasei's History but I didn't keep that in mind. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," he stammered sheepishly. Truth was that the few things he remembered of Vegitasei's History were endless wars with the Ice-Jinns ending with a dirty bomb causing the bloody disappearance of the Saiyan people. It was what most people had in mind when you mentioned Vegitasei. The bomb.

Vegeta cocked an eyebrow and for some reasons, Goku's confession seemed to soothe his anger. "So, you gave a look at Vegitasei's History. You should give it a closer look. If I were you, I'd study especially the life of a certain general. His name was Bardock. I'm pretty sure his story will interest you."

Goku nodded stupidly as he was mostly relieved to see Vegeta back to a calmer mood. "Was he some relatives of yours?"

Vegeta gave him an intense look and sighed. "No, he wasn't. I just thought… Forget about it. Let's just focus on our work. I need some rest before I take my duty tomorrow. Let me know if you learn anything new by then."

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	13. 12 The amazing world of Bulma Briefs

_Hey there. Thanks everyone._

 _ **Roar-ya**_ _: Merci pour ton soutien, ça m'a aidé à me souvenir qu'il y a quand même quelques lecteurs qui aimeraient connaitre le reste de l'histoire. Du coup, hop: chapitre 12._

 _Warning_ _: Some of you might expect some sweet VegeBul. You won't find that here. Of course, there will be interactions between them but it's not the main point of that story. I thought it fair to warn you about it and I'm sure you'll find some romantic Vegebul all over the site._

* * *

 **Chapter 12 - The amazing world of Bulma Briefs**

The Heiress seemed to be the type to care for details. Vegeta contemplated his reflection in the small mirror while considering the quality of the suit he'd been given for his duty. The fabric was refined and the outfit felt as if made-to-measure. There was no doubt it had been cut out by a gifted tailor.

At first, the Saiyan had been pleased to find out he was to wear such comfortable clothes. Yet, after a moment gazing at himself, his satisfaction gave way to the bitter thought that he mostly looked like a megalomaniac's puppet after all. Like he'd been Freezer's puppet for years. The Heiress wanted some classy bodyguard to fit her classy car and her classy life. He felt somehow nauseated at the idea but then, he reminded himself that it was all fake. He wasn't exactly her bodyguard and she will be the one screwed up at the end of all. The thought had him smirk at his reflection while adjusting his sleeves.

He was interrupted by a harsh knock on the door. "Mr Bodyguard, the hand of the clock says you're gonna be late," an irking falsetto voice stated. He frowned at the sound and wondered who could be talking in such moronic way. He stepped out the changing room and found a little guy with a very pale skin and disturbing round eyes smiling at him. The little man stretched his hand to him. "Hello, Mr Bodyguard, I'm Chiaotzu," he claimed.

Vegeta watched him with unease. Goku had told him about this guy. He was half witted and Shienhan dragged him along like a little brother. He was also one of the few person the Heiress would trust and Shienhan had mentioned him as her third bodyguard. Vegeta reluctantly shook his hand. "Do you know where I'm supposed to go, now?" he asked the little clown.

Chiaotzu shook his head all by keeping smiling and Vegeta felt like he was mocking him. "Tien didn't tell me. Will you be our friend from now on?"

Vegeta cringed. "Friend? Huh, I'm just a bodyguard."

Chiatzu looked puzzled at the reply. "But… You want to protect Bulma, don't you? Doesn't it make you a friend of her?"

Vegeta gritted his teeth. This strange man was indeed a complete idiot. The Saiyan deemed better not to waste time trying to argue with him. "Well, you're somehow right. Consider me as a friend of hers."

Chiaotzu beamed again. "Then, if you're Bulma's friend, it means you'll be Tien and me's friend too."

Vegeta repressed a sigh. "Okay, new friend. Do you know what I'm supposed to do now?"

As a reply, Chiaozu reached out a gun so fast Vegeta he couldn't say where the little clown had it from. The Saiyan was startled and he wondered with some concern who could be thoughtless enough to give a weapon to such a dumb person.

The little man seemed to read his mind as he resumed. "Don't worry, bodyguard. It's unloaded. There you got the ammos.

A box of bullets appeared in his free hand as if by magic. Once again Vegeta was stunned by Chiaotzu's dexterity while the later was staring at him with an obvious amusement. The Saiyan understood he was taking all this for a game. Vegeta felt some unease while facing that little man blessed with the brain of a five-year old along with unsuspected skills and knowledges about guns. The situation was somewhat disturbing.

Vegeta snatched the gun and the ammos from Chiaotzu. The little clown wasn't baffled at his harshness and kept smiling at him. "Tien said someone will be waiting for you in the underground parking lot. Don't forget your coat, Tien said you would find everything you need in its pockets."

The Saiyan found out a black woolen coat was hanging on the stand. He checked the gun's security notch and stuck it into his belt. Then he reached out for the coat and rummaged the pocket. He found the professional phone Shienhan had mentioned along with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. A few notes and a security pass had been stuffed in another pocket and that was it. Vegeta put every items back where they belonged and slipped the coat in all by wondering how Shienhan had guessed he was an occasional smoker. Maybe he'd smelled it on him, or he'd spotted his lighter.

"Smoking causes cancer. It's bad," Chiaotzu stated, snatching the Saiyan out of his musing.

"Sure," he groaned.

"Bulma promised she would quit. You should too. I don't want my friend to get sick. Do you know what cancer is?" the little clown resumed.

Vegeta wasn't listening to him anymore as he was in a hurry to leave him behind. "We'll talk about that another day, little friend. I have to go by now," he replied absently.

He stepped past Chaozu, giving him a slight bump in the process and exited the room without one more word. He heard his terrible voice behind his back. "Have a good night, Mr Bodyguard!"

Vegeta did exactly as he had been said and made his way to the underground parking lot. A bunch of cars were parked in the dim light and he had a second thought about where to head. "Mr Ouji?" a voice startled him.

A guy dressed in a similar suit as his was standing in the shadows. "I'm Guy. I'm Ms Briefs's driver for tonight," he claimed.

"Where is she?" the Saiyan asked.

"I don't know yet but we have to pick her up. We're sort of late already," Guy replied. With that, he walked to a shining black car. Just like Vegeta had expected it, it was a big luxury model. It was the bumptious type with a lame motor - Hardly good enough to drive quietly downtown and impress morons. He took place on the passenger seat.

"What do you mean, you don't know where she is? How are we supposed to find her, then?" he asked the driver as they exited the parking lot.

Guy turned on the GPS system. "Someone will program the GPS system at distance for us," he answered with a smile.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. Even the driver knew nothing about where he was heading. It sounded quite amazing.

"First day your work for her? Expect everything but normality, there. She's eccentric and exhausting but she pays high wages. You'll get used to it," the driver explained flatly.

"I hope so," Vegeta grumbled. "It won't be easy to protect her if I'm not allowed to know what she's up to, though."

"I guess. She's weird sometimes," the driver shrugged absently.

During their talk, Vegeta noted the elaborated security system surrounding the parking lot. He'd needed his personal badge to have the elevator bring him down here and furthermore, they were cameras and checkpoints everywhere. Besides, it seemed this woman had an endless row of cars and he was pretty sure some of them were never used. Anyone willing to trick the Heiress' car would have a hard time reaching the parking lot and picking up the right car.

They drove through the town following the computer's indications until they stopped at the entrance of a hotel. Vegeta frowned. "A hotel?" he whispered for himself.

"She sort of lives in hotels," Guy pointed out. "Not always in classy ones."

Vegeta looked at him. "Yet, she must have a home, right?"

The driver pouted. "Not that I know. The Capsule Corp might be her home. She surely has an apartment somewhere in the building, I suppose. You'll have to find that out by yourself because she has more than ten drivers, so I'm not always the one driving her. I told you she's weird."

Guy climbed out of the car and Vegeta followed him. Both men leaned side by side against the car as to wait for their boss. The setting was classy again - nothing surprising. Red carpet with a canopy, a stoic doorman in uniform - everything reeked of big dough. As time went by, the Saiyan had to repress his growing annoyance. Serving someone was something he could no longer stand. The situation reminded him too much of his years at Freezer's service.

"There she is," Guy mumbled all of a sudden, snatching him out of his frustrating musing.

Vegeta had a shock when he saw her. He still had in mind the picture of her plain look the first time he met her during his interview and the woman showing up there seemed definitely to be someone else. She was wearing a long, red evening dress embroidered with tiny diamonds. Her hair were done in flawless curls cascading down her neck and bare shoulders and her slight make up made her face somehow different. Vegeta had to admit she was breathtaking and nothing near the bitch in lab coat he'd seen the day before. He even wondered whether she was maybe playing the lookalike trick once again.

She glanced at Guy and Vegeta and headed straight to them with Shienhan by her side. The folds of the scarlet fabric were gleaming with each step she took and it made the sight even more impressive. As she came closer to him and talked to him, he had to bow to the evidence though. She was the same woman he'd met in the small office of Capsule Corp. "Mr Ouji, you haven't given up yet?" she asked with a large smile.

"Not yet, Ms Briefs. I'll be aware of men's restroom though," he growled.

She laughed and gave Shienhan a knowing gaze. The Easternish guy cleared his throat in unease. "Bulma won't try anything unfriendly against you, Mr Ouji. Right Bulma?"

She shrugged. "Nothing a professional bodyguard wouldn't survive. As a beginning, we'll attend a very boring party, dear. Very boring and yet for a good cause," she resumed.

Tien Shienhan nodded. "I thought it would be easier for you to start with some official events so that you can learn to know each other a little bit," he explained to Vegeta.

"He's a damn liar. He's rather relieved to run away and leave that chore to you," Bulma corrected.

"I've been watching you for more than 24 hours by now. Would you allow me to have a personal life?" Tien objected playfully.

"What personal life?" she replied with curiosity.

Shienhan sighed in embarrassment. "Whatever. Did Chiaotzu give you - huh - everything you need?"

Vegeta nodded. He hadn't even cared to load the gun by now.

"Good. I told you everything you should know about the professional phone. Did you give your personal phone to the guard at the Capsule? You can leave him instructions if you're waiting for important calls, you know," Shienhan added.

"I remember all the details," Vegeta replied.

"Don't hesitate to use the phone if you have any troubles," Shienhan insisted.

"Tien, don't patronize him that way or do you want me to doubt his ability to be my bodyguard?" Bulma cut off.

"No - It's - huh" Shienhan stammered but Bulma interrupted him with some impatience. "Don't worry. Everything's gonna be fine. Go to that "personal life" whatever it means. Let's go now, we're late."

At that signal, Vegeta opened the back door in order to let her in. She had a second thought but accepted the hand he offered her as a help to climb into the car. When he shut the door, his eyes met Shienhan's. Vegeta could say the man was wary. He might need some time to gain his complete trust but it shouldn't be that hard considering he was already handing the Heiress over to his care.

Vegeta went back to the passenger seat and the car drove away, following new instructions of the GPS. The Saiyan could watch their back passenger through the rear mirror but the Heiress didn't tell them a single word during the short drive. He figured out that she would stay quite distant out of Shienhan's presence. Before Vegeta could figure it out, they arrived in a place he recognized as West City's town Hall.

The Heiress hadn't lied. The party was boring to death. Vegeta had attended hundreds of parties like this one, either when he was part of Freezer's team or even younger, as he was the promising Prince of Vegitasei. Whatever the place and whatever the time, he'd always hated those sort of society life.

At least, being a mere bodyguard here, he didn't need to make conversation with anyone. First of all, there had been an endless speech and now there was some music and food. A small crowd was scattered in a huge lavish room, all the women with shiny long dress and all the men in tuxedo.

The Saiyan was standing still against the wall, his eyes locked on his target. Her red dress was very convenient to monitor her among the mass but it didn't prevent her from being out of sight once in a while since the place was swarming. Vegeta didn't mind. It wasn't as if he was a real bodyguard.

"Who are you watching?" a flat voice asked right next to him.

When he turned his head, he found a young guy with long black hair and mesmerizing blue eyes standing next to him. He was dressed in a dark suit and Vegeta identified him as another bodyguard, as bored as the Saiyan himself. "Red dress," Vegeta mumbled.

The guy raised an eyebrow. "Lucky guy. I'm here for an old fat tuxedo and it gets easily lost in a crowd like this. The worst thing is I'm starving and sleepy as hell. Do you think it would be really unprofessional to have a bite in the kitchen?"

Vegeta considered the offer. Once again, he wasn't a real bodyguard. Furthermore, there wasn't much to happen in that damn ballroom. "I think it's hard to focus with an empty stomach either way. Let's go and see what we can find there," the Saiyan answered.

He followed the younger man across the place but just when they were about to reach the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of a piece of red fabric sneaking through the service entrance. The Saiyan froze with a frown. "Sorry, I got to go," he blurted out before leaving the other bodyguard behind.

He went straight to the service entrance and stepped out in a dark filthy courtyard. It was deserted and quiet except for a figure sitting on a box in a corner. He walked closer and made out the long red dress in the dimness. The person there was holding a cigarette glowing in the twilight. "Ms Briefs?" he asked hesitantly.

She raised her head and looked at him. "Hey. Found me. Just call me Bulma, by the way. Ms Briefs sounds too formal," she answered quietly.

"I like Ms Briefs better," he grunted. For some reasons, the fine glittering fabric of her dress' train lying on the filthy ground bothered him. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled. "I needed a cigarette and I also needed to hide from sticky guys," she said with a chuckle.

Only then, he noted that her voice sounded raspy and he realized she might be drunk. He repressed a sigh and slipped his hand in his pocket in search for his own cigarettes. He was stunned to find the pocket where they were supposed to be was empty except for the phone. He tried the other pocket in vain.

"Looking for something?" she asked.

"Huh. I thought - my cigarettes. I guess they fell in the car," he grumbled with a shrug.

She had a frank laugh. "I assume you met Chiaotzu, didn't you?"

Vegeta raised his eyebrow. "Yes. I saw him when I started my duty, why?"

"Let me guess, he lectured you about quitting smoking and you didn't listen to him. He stole your cigarettes."

The Saiyan frowned at that statement and remembered that he'd bumped the little clown standing in his way out. "Damn."

"Welcome in the amazing world of Bulma Briefs," she claimed by handing her own pack to him.

He accepted her offer and lit up a cigarette for himself all by mulling over that strange character of Chiaotzu. He would keep an eye on him next time as he felt disturbed by the fact that he could have been fooled by the idiot.

"Do you want some wine too?" the Heiress asked.

His eyes fell on a bottle she'd brought outside along with her glass. It seemed she'd been as bored as him in that party, and it seemed boredom had made her throat sore. "No thanks. I was wondering what's the point in staying there in that dirty courtyard? Why not just go home?"

She had another stupid chuckle. "You know what, Mr Ouji? You might not be very funny but you have fucking good ideas," she replied.

He felt glad to learn that she was willing to go back home, which would mean he would be able to have a quiet night on his own. He also hoped to find a way to call Goku and let him know what was on.

"Let's go!" she claimed by standing up.

However, instead of heading to the door to go back inside, she climbed up the box and grabbed the ledge of the wall separating the yard from the street. He stood numb for a second. "What the hell do you think you are doing?" he asked as she was making pathetic attempts to hoist herself on the top of the wall.

"Whaddayathink? I'm running away." She mumbled.

"Why not just use the door to go back inside and use the entrance of the building?" he asked in bewilderment.

In reply, she gasped in a desperate effort that resulted in her sitting astride on the wall. The sound of fabric getting ripped echoed in the process and Vegeta eyes almost bulged out. He threw his cigarette away and walked closer to the box. "Ms Briefs - Huh, come down, now, you're gonna hurt yourself," he hissed as if addressing an unruly child getting on his nerves.

She just laughed at that and he deemed she might be even more wasted than he'd thought in the first place. He jumped on the box and grabbed her wrist but she'd already swung her legs over the top of the wall and she was now hanging on the other side. She had a small wimp as she likely realized, she was higher than she'd thought.

"Don't be silly," Vegeta roared,"you're gonna break your leg. It's too high." He was holding her arm tight and seething at her foolishness.

She gave a glance at the gap beneath her and chuckled again. He heard her shoes falling down on the sidewalk. "Let go of me, it's okay. I've done worse," she stated.

He could say it was too late to impose a reasonable way on her. "Let me help you, then. Give me your other hand," he ordered coldly.

She glared at him. "I don't need any help," she spat by snatching her wrist out of his grip. He was caught off guard by her move and had no time to react. As a result of him letting go of her wrist, she fell down straight on the ground with a loud thud. He cursed under his breath and climbed the wall in the blink of an eye to check her out.

"Fuck!" she yelled. She was sitting on the sidewalk of a deserted alleyway and rubbing one of her arm. He couldn't see her very well. "Are you all right?" he asked from the top of the wall.

Getting no answer, he jumped down next to her. The refined fabric of the dress was half torn and spread on the concrete around her so that he couldn't see her legs but her arm had been scratched in the fall. "Are you hurt?" he insisted.

"That damn dress didn't help but I'm fine," she grumbled in annoyance.

"You're reckless and drunk," he stated.

She laughed again. "You're something of a philosopher, Vegeta. Do you mind if I call you Vegeta?"

He sighed and took her hand to help her struggle to her feet. "Yes, I do. Let's call the driver and go back home now."

She dusted herself and considered her torn dress for a moment. Then she stared up at him. "The driver? He's gone. I told him to go."

"What?" he exclaimed. "How are we supposed to go by now? Let's call a cab, then."

"A cab? I feel like walking," she objected by picking up her shoes.

Vegeta gritted her teeth. That drunken fool was definitely getting on his nerves. "You're nut. Anything could happen to you. We're in the open. What if the snipers tracking you down find us there?"

"Then you'll do your job, I guess. Aren't you bulletproof? It's an essential quality to be around me," she retorted cheerfully.

He glared at her in disapproval. Once again he could feel that disturbing feeling toying with his mind. Even though she was drunk and even though she was renowned to be fearless, she should be scared or at the very least she should be concerned. She was supposed to be the living target of a fearsome talented sniper and yet, there she was, walking carelessly the deserted street of an unknown neighborhood by night. Her cockiness didn't fit the situation and Vegeta wondered whether she was hiding something and what it could be about.

Maybe she was just completely stupid. He watched her. It was a senseless sight to say the least. From afar she would look like a princess dressed in a splendid dress and adorned with diamonds but a closer look could tell that the princess had likely just gone through a garbage chute. A drunk and gimpy Princess indeed. Vegeta wasn't certain if she was silly but she was everything but normal, that was for sure.

Having no other choice he followed her suit with no clue about where they were heading. She seemed to be oblivious of him at first, walking straight down the street but she ended up pausing and lifted up her dress to inspect her wounded ankle. He heard her curse under her breath.

"Are you hurt? Maybe it would be wiser to call a cab," he suggested flatly.

She gave him a murderous glare. "I'm gonna be all right. It's nothing. Gimme your arm if you wanna play gentleman," she spat.

He glanced at the ankle. It was scratched and he was pretty sure it was sprained but he did as he was told. She wrapped her arm around his and the way she leaned on him at each step proved Vegeta right about the ankle. However, the woman would rather die than to admit that jumping down the wall with a cocktail dress while completely drunk had been a bad idea. He blurted a soft sigh. This mission was promising hell.

"I have to pee," she stated all of a sudden, as if hearing his thought.

"What? Now?" he hissed in disbelief.

"I can't wait. I'll hide between the cars over there, just watch out that no one comes," she confirmed before running to the cars parked some meters further.

"Hey, no! Wait!" Vegeta shouted. He couldn't believe she would really do it but as a matter of fact, she crouched between the cars and soon enough he could only glimpse the top of her hair. He turned around hastily.

He closed his eyes an instant in order to regain his composure. This first day was anything near what he had expected. She was supposed to be rich, she was supposed to be smart and everyone depicted her as the dream of any sensitive man. He wasn't naive and he had figured out she would be somewhat eccentric as were many people too rich and famous for their own sake but she acted mostly like a brainless kid and hell, she was the utmost vulgarity.

Vegeta sighed again as he came to the conclusion that it wouldn't matter that much after all. All he would have to do would be to get some interesting pictures for Pilaf and truth was that a drunk Heiress peeing between cars in the street would be something the dwarf would love.

He opened his eyes and saw an old man walking a dog in the distance. He watched him for a while, fearing he would come their direction and stumble across a busy crouching Heiress but the guy ended up entering a house with the dog.

The Saiyan peered over his shoulder to check out if his boss was done. His blood ran cold when he realized the glimpse of blue hair was nowhere to be seen between the cars. "Ms Briefs," he called.

He wasn't surprise to get no answer and cursed. He rushed to the place he'd seen her for the last time but she was gone. He looked around carefully. Fortunately, the street was deserted and there was hardly any sound save for the rumor of the traffic going on a block further. Thus he could hear the faint noise of steps hurrying away in a street on his left.

He ran into the street without a second thought and glimpsed the red dress almost a hundred meters ahead. When he caught up with her she looked up at him and gave him a warm smile. "Hey, here you are again?" she noted carelessly.

"You tried to lose me," he grunted.

"Did I? If it had been my real intention you wouldn't have found me so easily," she shrugged.

He realized that she didn't limp any longer and he figured out she'd been putting it in order to allay his wariness. She was a true bitch but he couldn't say exactly what game she was playing. Or maybe he knew. It struck him all of a sudden. "Are you trying to put me off the job?"

She raised an eyebrow with a knowing smile. "How did you met Yamcha?" she asked, changing unexpectedly the subject.

He pressed his lips together in annoyance. The atmosphere had changed in less than one minute. She wasn't as drunk as he'd thought, he could see it in her eyes now. And neither was she foolish. He disliked it and a dull unease grew in his guts. "A friend of mine introduce us," he replied cautiously.

"Yamcha got a lot of friends, but he seems pretty keen on you," she stated with an unreadable face. "What do you know about me?"

That was a tricky question. Vegeta couldn't pretend he'd never heard of her but he shouldn't display any particular interest in her. "Well, I haven't lived in the Western State for very long but I know you're a scientist running a very important firm. You're rich and in big trouble, which are the two main reasons why I'm here. Is there anything else I should know?"

She cocked her head in hesitation. "Hm, no. I think it's more than enough so far. Oh, I think we're there."

She stopped at the door of a small mansion and pushed it open. He followed her when she entered and found out the place was actually a small hotel. They stumbled across a guy with a grey mustache and missing teeth, standing in the tiny hall. "Evening, Ma'ame. How are you tonight?" He greeted them.

"Fine, and you Horacio?" she replied with an absent smile.

Horacio had a raucous chuckle. "As fine as my bones. How many breakfasts tomorrow?"

"Three will do. Have a good night Horacio," she answered. Then, she walked into a corridor. Vegeta gave the man a nod and followed her hastily. She knew the place and headed without a second thought to a door. She paused there and turned to Vegeta.

"That's my room. Yours is the next door ahead. Good night Mr Ouji," she told him.

He scowled and grabbed her wrist as she was about to open the door. "Are you going to run away as soon as I lay in bed?" he asked bluntly.

She blinked in confusion and looked up at him. Then, she repressed a grin. "I'm not," she replied.

"How can I be sure of that?" he resumed sharply. Truth was he was quite fed up with her bitchy behavior.

This time, she gave him a bright beam. "Well, I might offer you to stand beside my bed the whole night but I fear Yamcha wouldn't like it."

Vegeta didn't lose his composure at the answer. "Is he in here?"

She released gently her wrist and opened the door. TV was on somewhere in the apartment. "Bulma? Is it you?" the baseball player's voice asked in the distance.

"It's me. I'm just saying good night to my new bodyguard," she said, her amused eyes still locked on Vegeta's face.

Yamcha poked his head in the corridor and smiled at the Saiyan with a wave of the hand. "Hey, Vegeta. Everything's fine?"

"Perfectly fine," he growled back.

Yamcha went back to his TV and Bulma pushed Vegeta softly away. "See? I'm not going to run away. You can sleep sound," she concluded.

"It was all a test, wasn't it? This whole night was a test," the Saiyan stated coldly.

She didn't expect him to figure that out, he could read it on her face. He liked the fact that he'd been able to catch her off guard as much as he disliked the thought that she'd held him for a fool.

"Did I pass, at least?" he sighed.

"You didn't quit so far, so I think you did. Yet, I lack hindsight for now. Good night, Mr Ouji."

When she shut the door, Vegeta prayed to find some vodka in his room.

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	14. 13 New life, old friends

_Hey there. So, this story isn't dead, far from it. It just needed some maturing. You'll also notice (or not) that I changed the title. An awful thing to do, but I feel better about it._

 _There's still no beta reader around, so be aware of odd grammar._

 _I have to thank all the people that sent me some sympathy. It was very supportive. Enjoy._

* * *

 **Chapter 13 - New life, old friends**

When Yamcha realized his own fingers were drumming on the desk out of nervousness, he took a deep breath and forced his hand to rest flat on his knee. He felt like suffocating despite the coolness in the room and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. From the grey color of the walls to the plastic plant in its black pot, everything in the office looked sinister to him. He tried to soothe his uneasiness by remembering the two past days he'd spent with Bulma in that queer mansion downtown. Yet, the stark reality of his banker's office would keep stinging his nerves, no matter his efforts.

M. Enma was nothing near a clown and Yamcha was reminded this trait as soon as the man stomped into the office and sat wearily his huge self on the chair opposite from the desk. His broad shoulders bulged under his dark suit as he leaned wordlessly over the papers he'd brought with him. He put on his glasses, sliding them on top of the bridge of his nose with a stubby finger, and kept silence for a while. Yamcha didn't dare to speak and just held his breath until he was done reading.

Enma cleared his throat and this single sound had almost Yamcha jump out of his skin. "I'm told you'd like to borrow us more money," Enma stated while raising a stern face.

He had a disbelieving frown that froze Yamcha to the bones, but the baseball player was able to prevent his voice from shaking. "Yeah. I - You heard about that game my team won some days ago? It earned me an extra bonus and needless to say, I intend to get some more."

Enma nodded. "That would be a good way to repay all the money you already owe."

Yamcha leaned back in his chair in a casual manner. "Exactly what I thought, but, you know, meanwhile I have to keep going on, so-"

He interrupted himself at the sight of Enma taking off his glasses and rubbing his face into his giant palms. "Yamcha, you've been playing base ball for about 10 years and you haven't spared a single zeni. Are you aware that your career is about to end? You should come to a wiser standard of life," the banker pointed out.

The words knotted Yamcha's guts a little bit more. "I still have some years ahead," he objected sheepishly.

The harsh gaze of Enma's black orbs stopped him from speaking further. "I'm trying to give you a good advice and you're free to ignore it but don't count on me to follow you into your madness," the bulky man growled.

Yamcha blinked in disappointment. "Does that mean you won't lend more money to me?"

Enma repressed a bitter chuckle. "Not only that but I mean to remind you that your last payment is late. If you don't find a solution within the week, you'll have to give back your credit card."

Yamcha cringed and watched him with horror. Enma didn't look affected though. Instead, he stood up as a way to let him know the talk was over. "If you don't mind, I have other clients to see, now," he concluded in an uncaring voice.

"Sure," Yamcha murmured as the man was already gone.

The baseball player left the bank with a weary step wondering how he'd found himself into such shit. Deep down his mind, he knew there was nothing to wonder about though. He'd always been aware that he was somehow rushing down the hill even though he'd never admitted it clearly. He'd always hoped that he would gain some marvelous treasure at gambling all by knowing that it would never happen.

As he walked down the streets he mulled over his situation. He needed dough before the end of the week. He'd already given back his luxury car and he was hellbent on keeping his credit card. He sat on a deserted bench a block further and took reluctantly his phone out of his pocket. He toyed with the device for a while and ended up dialing a number with a sigh.

"Yep?"

Puar's careless voice twisted Yamcha's guts a little bit more and for an instant, he couldn't utter a single word.

"Are you home?" the baseball player eventually asked as he felt unable to go straight to the point.

"Not yet. I told you I'd be out tonight. Are you all right?"

Yamcha shut his eyes. It was foolish to think that his nervousness would go unnoticed by Puar. At that point his friend was almost able to read his mind without seeing his face.

Yamcha plucked up the courage to resume the talk. "I - Did you pay the rent this month?"

"You're broke," Puar stated coldly.

Yamcha lowered his head and kept silent at that. There was nothing more to say after all. He heard Puar's sigh on the phone. "I've been offered a job as teacher in a night school. Do you think it might help?" his friend carried on.

Yamcha bit his tongue. Puar's voice wasn't tinged with the slightest hint of disapproval and it hurt oddly even more than an angry lecture. "I need 2.000 zenis before the end of the week," the baseball player answered with a blank voice.

This time, Puar was the one to keep silent.

"I'll pay you back, I swear," Yamcha added in a hurry.

He got no reply at first and he feared Puar would just hang up and left him in his own. A dull panic froze his stomach, but Puar resumed at last. "I have some sparing. I'll give you what you need and you _won_ _'t_ pay me back. You never did before, did you?"

"Puar, I swear. This time is -"

"You _won_ _'t._ What I want in return is that you stop your crap. I asked you to do it before. I asked as your friend, as your brother. I yelled, I cried, I begged but you never listened. Now consider that I pay you to stop. I hire you to stand still and have a normal life. Just work and TV nights. Nothing else. Do you accept the job?"

Yamcha was speechless. His heart was torn apart by his friend's words. How came that Puar felt like he had to _buy_ Yamcha's sake?

"I need to hear the words," Puar insisted after a wile. "I really need it."

"Deal done," Yamcha grunted shamefully.

Puar had an unexpected chuckle. "Cool. You'll have to call me boss from now on," he replied. All the sad concern in his voice had faded in a heartbeat and Yamcha loved him for being so strong.

"Then, have a nice evening, boss. Thank you," he answered.

When he hung up, Yamcha felt drained. He felt miserable too. Puar had always been a sort of guardian angel to him and yet, he was getting weary. The baseball player was aware that this was the last time Puar would save him for Yamcha was definitely too much of a tough work for a guardian angel. It would be the last time Yamcha would need Puar though, because he'd made the decision to change his way of life more than a week ago.

He'd almost died then - Twice in two days - and it had been something deserving attention, even for someone as dense as him. Should his life end tomorrow, what would remain of it? Some tears and a lot of debts and troubles. Even Puar would have a much easier life without him. Yamcha had decided to move on.

First he'd used his extra bonus to pay all his gambling debts - Nappa's debt before anything else. Truth was he'd hoped Enma would grant him some more credit to make it through the month but it hadn't turned out so well and he had now to rely a last time on Puar. Yet, gambling was over and he would work hard to have his team win further in the national Championship. No matter Enma's point of view, he knew he could do it and the bonus would help him pay back the bank and Puar.

Then he had also decided that he would propose Bulma. Thinking about it, he'd never been able to stick around a girlfriend so long and it could only mean that she was the one. He'd been afraid to give up to his freedom so far but he'd realized that the freedom he'd always hold so dear had never earned him happiness. He would never build anything with wind. Furthermore, marrying Bulma would allow them a more normal life and it was exactly what he'd just promised to Puar - To have a normal life.

He pocketed his phone and forced a smile on his face. If he could hold on, his life would turn more cheerful very soon.

He stood up and made his way to the next bus station. The bar where he was supposed to join Kakarott wasn't far away but he was unfamiliar with the bus lines and he ended up being late. When he entered the place, he was relieved to see that his friend was still there waiting for him while reading a book.

Yamcha walked to his table and sat opposite from him, snatching him out of his book.

Kakarott grinned at him. "There you are. I thought you'd forgotten me,"

"No - I - I had something unplanned in my way. How are you? What do you drink?" Yamcha replied with unease. There was no way he could confess that he no longer had his amazing car and he had to take the bus.

"I had a beer, but trust me it's awful. You should order something else," Kakarott explained.

"I'll follow your advice, then. I'll have a scotch," Yamcha agreed while his eyes wandered on the place in search for a waiter.

"Miwa!" Kakarott called with a wave of his hand.

Yamcha cringed at the name and the sight of the waitress answering the call froze definitely his blood. Her hazel eyes and her smile were exactly like in his memory. She was wearing an apron embroidered with the name of the bar around her own name and a short skirt underneath.

"My friend finally came. Could you bring us two whiskey? Mine with ice. What about you Yamcha?" Kakarott claimed.

Yamcha hardly dared to look up at Miwa. When their eyes met, he knew she'd recognized him. Of course, she had. What did he think? Her smile had faded somehow but she wouldn't unlock her chocolate orbs from him. The color of her eyes had always reminded him of chocolate - everything in her had always been so _sweet_ in a way. He blinked and averted his look from her. "Ice is fine," he muttered by contemplating his fingers.

"Good. Two whiskeys with ice. I'm starving. Could you bring us something to eat too?" Kakarott resumed.

Miwa cleared her throat. "Sure. Would sandwiches do?"

Yamcha was relieved that she pretended she didn't know him. She was obviously nervous though, tapping her pen on her notepad.

"Great," Kakarott approved with a grin.

When he was sure she was gone, Yamcha lost any interest in the study of his nails and looked up at his friend. "So? How did it work out?" he asked while trying to keep Miwa out of his mind.

"Well, the bargaining was pretty rough but thanks to your money and with the right strings pulled for it, Vegeta and I could do it. Nappa is basically a businessman first and foremost, and in the end we agreed that the matter was over." Kakarott replied.

"A businessman, huh? I have to admit I didn't see things that way the night I had one of his henchmen with his knife pressed against my throat. Yet, I owe you much guys," Yamcha sighed. Nappa was actually a brute with a liking for violence but Yamcha had also been aware that the Saiyan had also a liking for money and he would never have given up to the dough Yamcha owed him, so after the fight at the club, Vegeta, Kakarott and he had to settle the situation with him. Kakarott had offered to go see him and give him Yamcha's money, claiming that Vegeta would know the right people to organize a safe meeting. Yamcha was glad to see it had worked out well. It was one less concern in his new life.

Miwa showed up carrying a tray with a plate and two glasses. While she rested the plate and the first glass on the table, Yamcha looked up at her once again. This time, he wasn't caught off guard and he didn't feel so shy. She was as beautiful as ever and he still remembered that what was to be seen when she was dressed as a waitress was only a tiny bit of her real treasures. Something was stinging his stomach as he thought about the brief time she'd been his. She was the carefree type and she was refreshing. Something he had sworn not to taste again since he had Bulma. Bulma was beautiful too and she could be refreshing but she was nothing near carefree to say the least.

The waitress watched him silently all by serving the order. Her lips were twitched in a mischievous pout he knew too well - like a way to say things she wouldn't word. When she was about to put the second drink on the table, Kakarott reached out for the glass in an attempt to help her but unfortunately, the glass toppled over and half of the whiskey landed on his knees.

"Damn," Kakarott exclaimed with a sudden jerk.

Miwa's eyes widened in horror. "Sorry," she muttered all by holding back the empty glass and avoiding it to fall on the ground.

Kakarott stood up at once, eager to get rid of the ice. "Shit," he growled while contemplating his soaked trousers. Miwa handed him a small towel to whip the liquid impregnating his clothes.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated. "Let me take you to the rest room, we'll try to fix that."

"Don't bother. I'll do it on my own. I'll be right back," he replied gently.

Miwa watched him in concern as he walked to the restroom, then she turned back to the table and moped it up carefully. "Lucky me. Your friend is a cool guy," she said to Yamcha.

He nodded but she wasn't looking at him, busy with her task. He couldn't unlock his eyes from her. Her silky honey hair reminded him of another time and unnoticed to him, a smile stretched his lips. "How are you doing?" he asked after a while.

She paused her cleaning and stared up at him. "I'm fine as you can see. I found that work about six months ago and I live some blocks away from here now. Maybe I'll go back to university next year," she told him.

"That's cool," he stated although it wasn't exactly what he aimed to know. "Living with someone?" he added.

She had a half-smile and leaned back over her work. "No. You know me. Too restless. I think I scare guys."

He chuckled. "I wasn't scared by you," he objected.

"You ran away all the same though," she shrugged carelessly.

He had a playful frown. "I didn't run away. We just - we just stopped seeing each other."

She finished drying up the table and contemplated the result. Then, she turned to him. "Just like I said, I'm too restless, so I will always end up with restless guys. Scared or not, they'll move on without me. Now if I have to be honest, I don't really mind. I figured out I don't need a guy by my side. Well… maybe when I walk home by night with some perverted maniac lurking around in my neighborhood, but else I'm doing great..."

She chuckled but he wasn't fooled by her laugh. He scanned her eyes in search of bitterness, yet found none. If anything, she sounded resigned and for some reason he felt sad for her. Maybe she sensed it because she grinned at him. "I enjoy my life like that. I really do."

"Walking you home if you don't feel safe is something I can do for you," he offered. He didn't know why he'd told her that. Maybe he felt somehow guilty about the way their relationship had come to an end. They'd been together for a month and then, he had to go on a trip with the team. When he'd been back, he hadn't brought himself to call her back and he'd moved on to another girl. Just like that. Thinking about it, he'd been pretty coward and yet, she never tried to get any explanation from him. Maybe she'd been fine with the situation or maybe she'd just suffered in silence. Either way, Yamcha considered he owed her something.

She raised an eyebrow. "You sure have better things to do than to walk me home. My duty will only be over in an hour or so."

"Don't worry. I can wait," he insisted.

She shrugged with a smile. "As you wish."

With that, she went away with her tray and Kakarott's empty glass. Kakarrot wasn't long to come back. He sat down on his chair with a sigh. He contemplated the clean table and grabbed his phone still resting on it to check out if it had been splashed in the process. It seemed all right and he pocketed it back. "So? Did you see Vegeta? I heard he'd been hired by your girlfriend. You still don't wanna tell me who she is? This mystery really makes me curious."

Yamcha shook his head slowly. "I told you I can't for now. You'll know soon enough though. But I met Vegeta as a matter of fact."

Kakarott had had a large beam. "How is it going? Do you think it will work out? I know this guy isn't always very - huh - friendly."

Yamcha chuckled. Bulma had claimed he wouldn't last 24 hours but he made it so far. Just like Kakarott had said he wasn't the most cheerful man on Earth but he bid pretty well. He'd survived a day of shopping with Bulma and Yamcha had been actually pretty happy to have him by his side to go through the chore. "I wouldn't worry about that. If he doesn't die out of exhaustion, he might make it," Yamcha replied.

Kakarott had a knowing smirk. They were interrupted by the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He took the device out and gave it a look for a while. His features turned stern. "Hey, sorry man. Some troubles. I have to leave you already," he announced then.

Yamcha raised an eyebrow. "Nothing serious, I hope."

"Dont' worry. I just have to go," Kakarott answered while getting up and grabbing his jacket and bag. "See you."

As he was about to leave, some weird doubt popped up in Yamcha's mind. "Hey, Kakarott. What did you say your job was?"

Kakarott looked down at him in surprise. "Me? I'm a photograph. I work for a firm dealing with distance selling of rubbishes. Why do you ask?" he explained casually.

Actually, Yamcha didn't know for what reasons this question had come to his mind. He'd figured out Kakarott would have a much more thrilling job. He shrugged absently and waved goodbye.

When Kakarott was gone, Miwa came back with a new drink for him. Yamcha couldn't help but enjoy the sight of her puzzled hazel eyes. He smiled at her. "Leave the glass to me," he offered, "I still have an hour to kill."

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	15. 14 Inside Out

**Chapter 14 - Inside Out**

Goku's butt was numb from seating in the car. He'd been waiting still there for two hours already, hooked by the book about Bardock. He'd never been the type to read much, especially when it was about big books written by boring historians and yet for some reasons, he felt mesmerized by the history of the Saiyan general and the way he made it through his people's fate.

Bardock had been a basic soldier at first but he'd been able to foresee the Ice-Jinn's intentions thanks to an unusual insight. He'd tried to stand in their way even before they invaded the Saiyan realm but his third-class' opinion had been called insanity and he'd ended up in the Saiyan jail. Thus he'd been helpless preventing the Ice-Jinn Empire from taking possession of his own country, witnessing their arrival behind the bars of his cell. It had been when his true fight had started. He was successful gathering rebellious soldiers and forming a steady organization to withstand the Ice-Jinn power and connect secretly with the young Prince they had kept on the throne as a tool for their nasty domination. He had also been the guy overthrowing the invaders and freeing the little sovereign from their yoke. Goku had a hard time picturing Vegeta as the young Prince of the story and he couldn't help but wonder whether all this had really happened. The whole history was worth a breathtaking novel nonetheless and Goku couldn't wait to know what came next.

Yet, for now, the car's clock told him he had some job to do. His preys might show up soon. He snapped the book closed and dropped it on his passenger seat.

He took his camera out his bag and handled it as to tune it. He clipped an infrared system on the device as to shoot proper pictures despite the dim light and climbed out of the car. He prayed that tonight would be the night rewarding all his efforts. He had been going through the same boring routine for four days now but he hadn't gained anything useful so far. He was somewhat disappointed for his plan had gone unexpectedly well in the first place.

Locating Miwa hadn't been a tough work. Thanks to her phone number Vegeta had found on the picture in Yamcha's locker, Goku had been able to find out her name and the rest had been a piece of cake. The only thing Goku had been uncertain about had been the type of connection the girl had with the baseball player. When Goku had eventually figured out that Miwa was waitress in a downtown bar, he'd decided to try his luck. Having Yamcha facing the girl had been like a random chemical experience. The result had been unhoped for though.

At first, nothing had happened as Yamcha and Miwa had pretended they didn't know each other and Goku had thought that they had maybe never met for real. Maybe Miwa had been a former fan girl that had merely sent her picture to the baseball player and Yamcha had been totally oblivious of her. However, Goku's instincts had told him otherwise. He had his glass knocked down on his pants on purpose as to let them alone and he'd taken care to leave his phone on the table as to register their talk. When he'd listened to the record afterward, he'd felt like he'd won the jackpot. Walking her home? It had been much more than he'd expected.

He'd tailed them that night. Miwa lived three blocks away from the bar. It was a short walk but the point wasn't the walk. The point was the way it ended. As a matter of fact, it hadn't ended the way Goku had believed it would. A wave of the hand as a goodbye hadn't been a thing worth of a snapshot. Goku knew better though. Yamcha had two weaknesses. Good bets and pretty curves. Given their talk back at the bar, Goku had few doubts that everything was a question of time. Tonight was the fourth night the baseball player was walking the girl home.

A soft chuckle echoed in the silent alleyway, causing the reporter to step back into the shadows. Soon enough two figures turned the corner of the street and he made out Yamcha and Miwa. They were walking on the other side of the street, talking in low voice until they reached the gate of Miwa's house. They stopped there and stood face to face for a while. Yamcha whispered something to the girl. He had to lean over her as she was shorter than him.

"Closer," Goku breathed unwillingly while pointing his lens at them.

They stood still for a while, then kissed at last. Goku triggered his camera frantically. Although it hardly lasted a half minute, relief and excitement washed over him all along. Yamcha rested his hand on her shoulder and pushed her gently away. He mumbled something Goku couldn't hear. In reply, Miwa grabbed the baseball player and dragged him into another passionate kiss. The reporter pressed the button again with bated breath. Yamcha struggled the embrace and backed up with a shake of his head.

"Damnit, man. Juts go on," Goku sighed under his breath. He'd hoped for more but that was the end of it. Yamcha walked away, and left the girl behind.

Goku had another sigh. Miwa stood there silent for a moment, then entered her house clearing Goku's way back to his car. "Fuck," he spat while climbing back into his car. He sat there and browsed the result of is shooting. It soothed his annoyance. The pictures were pretty explicit provided the beginning and the end of the story wasn't told. He shrugged. A kiss was still a kiss and the second one looked especially passionate. It would do. Goku smirked.

That was the easy part though. Hardly the spice of their story. He now had to take pictures of Yamcha with the Heiress.

He packed off his camera and started his car. He programmed his GPS all by keeping an eye on the road and made his way through the town according to the instruction of the device. He was feeling excited at the little treasure he'd just fished out. He couldn't believe how easy his job was getting. It made it all the less believable that he hadn't been able to track down the Heiress properly the first time he'd tried. He admitted luck had been on his side so far, with the sniper lurking around and Brief's secretary needing to be replaced but he had played it smart too.

As the GPS told him he'd reached his destination, he parked his car and climbed out still gloating about his success. His smile dropped at the sight of the filthy district he was now in. The place looked like it had been devastated by some old war with its cracked building and sidewalks. Although no one seemed to be around, he could make out some movements in the shadows and he became wary at once. He took his bag and locked the car while checking the area nervously.

The only sign of life in the street was the light behind the windowpane of a bar with a broken panel. As unbelievable as it stood, it had to be the bar Vegeta wanted them to meet in. Goku walked in. The place wasn't big, but he was surprised to find out it was crowded although the whole district seemed to be dead. A very young man was standing behind the counter. He looked up at Goku in wariness and everyone silenced instantly as the newcomer stepped in.

Goku couldn't help but clear his throat in unease as the all the drinkers were staring at him all of a sudden.

"He's my guest," a voice claimed from a corner of the room.

As if by magic, everyone went back to their chats and glasses and the barman greeted Goku with a nod. "What do you want to drink, man?" he asked.

Goku didn't answer as he was scanning the place for his "host". He found Vegeta sitting in the corner and walked to him. "Whiskey. With Ice," he told the barman.

"What the hell is that place?" he grumbled as he sat opposite from the Saiyan.

Vegeta smirked and sipped his vodka. "My place."

Goku rolled his eyes. "Filthy and dark. Don't see the point," he replied while resting his chin in his palm.

"Point is if anyone unfamiliar shows up, I know it in the blink of an eye," Vegeta claimed.

"Fair enough," Goku admitted with a shrug as the barman rested a glass for him on the table. "So, how was work?"

"Quite boring. Business meetings, hotels, congress. I should be glad she stopped acting crazy like she did the first night but I'm not sure I like her routine better," Vegeta grunted.

"Are you… you know, getting to know each other somehow?" Goku asked hesitantly.

The Saiyan raised his eyebrows and huffed. "Knowing each other? Goku, I'm supposed to be a bodyguard not a lady's companion. Either way, she's surrounded by a crowd licking her boots most of the time, so she hardly speaks to me and when she does, it's only sarcasms. I'm a pain in her ass as much as she is in mine. Yet, the deal wasn't for me to become her friend or anything like that. The deal was to be able to have a good shooting of her with the baseball player and if truth to be told we're way off base so far."

Goku sensed Vegeta's annoyance. The Saiyan was definitely a dork at connecting with people but beyond that statement, he sounded fed up with his role as a bodyguard. He wouldn't hold it long. "Calm down. I thought that spending so much time with her would allow you to get closer to her and gain her trust somehow."

"I don't think I'm about to gain her trust. I might more likely kill her before it happens. Not to mention, I haven't seen Yamcha around in two days. I'm wondering if we'll ever have any opportunity to get what we're looking for," Vegeta hissed before gulping down the rest of his vodka.

Goku smirked. "Don't worry for Yamcha. He'll be back soon enough. He was somewhat busy lately,"

Vegeta frowned. "What do you mean?"

Goku took his camera out of his bag and turned it on. The Saiyan reached out for the device and browsed the pictures on the screen. "Shit. How did you get that? Who's that girl in the first place?" he exclaimed.

Goku's beam widened in pride. "Remember Miwa? The bikini with phone number you found in the locker?"

Vegeta shook his head in disbelief. Goku could say he was impressed although the Saiyan would rather die than admit it. "I want a copy of these pictures. Don't try to fool me, Goku," Vegeta spat instead.

Goku pouted and took the camera back. "Jeez. What a paranoid. You'll have them. Why would I show them to you if it were to play behind your back."

"We still don't have any pictures of the Heiress, though," Vegeta pointed flatly.

"I'm working on that issue. We have to figure out the best time and the best place. Considering tracking you down is somewhat too risky, I thought about getting information otherwise and I might have something by tomorrow."

The barman showed up and replaced Vegeta's empty glass by a new one without a word. Goku watched him with some bewilderment. "Man, you don't even have to order your drink. You're someone here, aren't you? Are these people around Saiyans as well?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the question. "Of course not, idiot. Nappa's owns the place though."

Goku had a thoughtful nod. The thought that Vegeta had once been a Prince still felt weird. "You know, I bought a book about Bardock's life. I can't believe the Prince mentioned down there was you."

Vegeta looked stunned at Goku's statement. "Someone wrote a book about him?"

"Yeah. Some historian from Satan City University. I have to admit I usually hate books but this one is really captivating. You were right, the guy was an impressive badass. Do you think I could find a book about _your_ life too?" Goku chuckled.

Vegeta scowled and took a sip of his vodka. "Don't think so. I'm not dead enough, yet. Either way, I'm pretty sure everything that's written down are bullshits."

"Why don't you write a book on your own? Like your memoirs, your know," Goku resumed.

Vegeta had a bitter chuckle. "Who would be interested in such shit? Besides, it would mean gathering memories and there's nothing I'd like to remember."

"You knew Bardock though. What sort of person was he for real?" Goku insisted.

Vegeta frowned and kept silent for a minute. "Listen Goku, we were talking about snapping some pictures of the Heiress. You said you might have some information by tomorrow. How is that?"

Goku sighed and considered trying to have Vegeta speak further about Bardock, but he felt the Saiyan had already said much more than he was willing to. "My son got a Martial Art local tournament tomorrow afternoon. Join me there and I'll give you everything I have. Might be I'll have a plan to end this contract once and for all. No news of the sniper by the way?"

Vegeta shook his head. "Everything was calm and boring like hell and if you really feel like having my opinion, there is no sniper. There is only a whimsical millionaire craving for attention.

Goku shrugged. "Interesting but hard to demonstrate. The only perk of such situation is that you had the opportunity to get hired." He had picked up his words carefully, but he could hardly repress his annoyance at Vegeta's insane theory. He didn't buy it and he didn't even care to hear about it. If anything, he would swear that the Saiyan was trying to make up a better story than her romance with Yamcha in order to deny the value of his work.

As a reply, Vegeta gave him a grudged glance. He didn't like to be hold for a fool, that was for sure.

"It's already late. I have to go home,"Goku stated as to break the awkward silence. He finished his glass and stood up while fumbling his pocket for money.

"Leave it already," Vegeta cut off. "Just figure something out. I won't stand that vixen and her moron endlessly."

Goku nodded with a smile and rushed out of the bar. It was close to midnight by now and he hoped that Chichi wasn't already asleep. He hadn't seen her for a few days and he missed her. He jumped into his car and sped through the town again.

As he stood in front of his house, every lights were off. He repressed a sigh and walked up the alleyway leading to the main door. When he would be done with the Heiress, they would go back to Mount Paozu and he wouldn't have to sneak into a sleeping house by night.

He pulled his keys out of his pocket and struggled the lock for a moment. The light was weak and something was blocking the lock. He cursed under his breath while growing irritated at the key's reluctance.

Someone ended up turning on the light in the hallway and Goku felt sorry at the idea that he had waken up his wife. The door opened but just when he was about to step in, Chichi's frame stood in his way. "Goku," she sighed.

He chuckled. "Hey, yeah, who else? I didn't mean to wake you up, sorry. My key wouldn't work.I don't know why…"

"I changed the lock, that's why."

Her voice was low and cold and his brain needed a minute to consider her words. "You… Why? Is there something wrong?"

She rubbed her eyes in weariness and gave another sigh. "You. You are wrong. You don't belong here any longer, Goku. You have to face the truth. We're divorced. You're not supposed to hang around like you do. It doesn't make sense and it won't get us anywhere."

He gaped and stared at her in puzzlement. It wasn't the first time she would serve him with such speech, yet it was the first time she had the idea to change the lock. Furthermore, she was unusually calm as if her decision had been maturing a long time in her mind. "Chichi, we talked about our situation before and we agreed that…"

"We never agreed much, Goku. You have your way and I handle the mess, that's how it works most of the time," she claimed.

Only then did he feel a dull unease in his guts. She was trying to break up their relationship for good and he couldn't stand that prospect. He never could. He rubbed his head sheepishly. "Why not talk about it inside? Huh? Let's have a cup of tea and try to sort things out," he offered.

"It's too late for such crap, Goku. You can't show up uninvited and beg for a cup of tea at midnight like that," she replied.

"Uninvited?" he repeated in shock. "I don't need to be invited,Chichi. You're my wife! Well, I know we're officially divorced but you're still a wife to me and you always will. Don't leave me behind like this, let me in." He was getting frantic. She wasn't so hard to coax in normal times. She would at least let him in.

She crossed her arms and shivered at the crisp air of the night but she still wouldn't back up as to clear his way inside. "Your wife, huh? And what about the other girls? You think I never knew about them? Even though I no longer care, you have some nerves to claim you still hold me as your wife."

He frowned. "No, I swear. I mean, yes at some point there were other girls but that's old history. Now, I promise there's only you."

She had a bitter chuckle and he became aware that his confession had hurt her more than she was willing to admit. "Really? And since when is that so? Since we divorced? All this is senseless shit. We _are_ senseless shit, Goku and I don't want such life."

He couldn't help but grab her hand in despair. "Listen, I'm going to… I'm working on something huge and when I'm done, I'll get a big pack of dough. Then we'll do whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want me to. I'll quit my job. We can move back to Mount Paozu, buy a big house and fill it with kids. What do you think?" His voice was resounding with hope and he gave her a pleading gaze.

Yet, her hand slipped away from his. "Supposing all this could happen, I'm pretty sure it would never be enough to make you happy. You know what? All these years I've spent by your side, I've always felt like a wagon dragged by a crazy locomotive and unable to keep up with it. Now, I'm tired Goku. For your sake as much as for mine, we have to end it."

He stared at her in disbelief, unable to find any more words. "Chichi," he whispered in shock. As a reply, she averted her eyes and shut the door. He stood numb and speechless, watching the light turned off in the hallway and the house returning to its previous stillness. A lump had formed in his throat. This couldn't be happening. She was out of her mind. He'd never seen her like that. She'd been so calm, her voice soft despite her distance.

He felt like yelling her name, but the silence of the sleeping neighborhood somehow cowed him. He walked back to his car and sat behind the wheel for a while, expecting the light inside the house to turn back on and the door to crack open again. Yet, the house remained dark and quiet. He gave a deep sigh and remembered that he would see her again the next day during Gohan's tournament. And the day after that when he'll bring Gohan back to her home. And the week after that when he'll pick up his son again. She wasn't willing to listen to him for now, but he would have a thousand opportunities to gain her back. And if he couldn't change her mind in the coming weeks, he would be able to coax her thanks to the money he'll earn for his work about the Heiress. All wasn't lost. All couldn't be lost.

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	16. 15 Chasing ghosts

_Hey. Slow update but update anyway._

 _Some asked questions. The answers will come out in the next chapters._

* * *

 **Chapter 15 - Chasing Ghosts**

The shy rumor of the city outside hardly disturbed the quietness of the big modern apartment Shienhan was calling his home. Lunch stepped silently along the dim corridor, her backpack hanging loosely from her grip.

Despite the lack of light she made her way easily up to the living room where she knew she would find the computer. It was the first time Shienhan had brought her to his place, but she hadn't been long to make herself home.

She paused at the entrance of the room and checked any sound coming from the bedroom. There was none. Shienhan was sleeping sound, certainly dreaming of something nice after the night they had. Somehow, this thought stung her guts. She resumed her walk nevertheless and sat at the desk where the computer was plugged.

Guilt had never been something familiar to her. It was a feeling lost in the hazy memory of her childhood and she'd always thought her heart was done with such crap. Yet, as surprising as it sounded, it seemed it wasn't the case. She didn't like the wicked feeling twisting her heart whenever it was about Shienhan and she struggled it forcefully but, as her grandmother liked to say, it was of no use to chase ghosts with a shotgun. Her grandmother had known a lot about ghosts and shotguns.

Lunch turned the computer on and waited for the screen to light up, the dull feeling still creeping in her guts. She caught a dark blue lock dangling down into her eyes and contemplated it blankly. No need to lie to herself, if she wasn't careful, she might screw up with Shienhan exactly the way she'd screwed up by trying to dye her hair black.

She slid the strand behind her ear and sighed in annoyance. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be doing what she was doing.

Goku had basically requested her to do a single thing, get Shienhan's phone number. And she got it. It had been a quick matter - hardly two hours of work - and she hadn't been supposed to linger around the guy. At first. Why she had offered him to have lunch with her, she had no clue. Well, afterward it had happened to be a good way to get even more tips and to make even more money with Goku. This was the official excuse and it made sense. However as Goku urged her to get more information from Shienhan, guilt had showed up. Her bad conscience had become sharper and sharper and it reminded her that the true reason why she kept seeing Shienhan had nothing to do with money. If it had only been about money, there would be no guilt and Lunch was too smart to ignore that fact.

She needed a moment to realize the computer was ready and waiting for her commands. It was more exactly waiting for a password. She took a device out of her bag and logged it to the computer. A green light flashed in the shadow letting her know the device was handling the situation. She didn't know much about hacking so she was hoping that Shienhan's system wouldn't be reluctant to deliver all she needed. If truth to be told, a tiny part of her was hoping that Shienhan's computer would be a bitch and refuse to disclose anything. After all, she didn't truly give a damn about Goku's work, so if the operation didn't work out it would only result into him denying her any payment. She could live with that.

She frowned at this thought. She'd never turned her nose on money. She'd suffered enough the lack of it to despise it. She was obviously losing her mind.

The screen of the computer changed and displayed colorful kites flying in a blue sky. She couldn't help a smile as she thought the wallpaper was so unlike Shienhan's life. She browsed swiftly the files but she found out that most of them were locked by passwords. She pressed a button on her device to have it work further on the issue.

She realized pretty soon this might take some time. She shouldn't be surprised. The guy was Chief of Security of the Capsule Corporation so she couldn't expect to crack easily his computer. She glanced at the door of the living room. Everything was quiet and the room where Shienhan was sleeping was at the end of a long corridor. Should he wake up and come to see what she was up to, she would have time to hear him.

She felt nervous nevertheless. In normal time she was rather cool blooded and fearless but although everything was running out fine so far she couldn't prevent her heart from racing. If he found out… Well, what? He would fulfill a complaint against her? He didn't even know her true name and she had no doubt she would be able to run away before he understood what she was doing. Hell, he was even clueless about the real color of her hair, so why should she bother?

She bothered though. She was worried at the thought that he could blow up her cover because he would jump out of her life in the process. She gritted her teeth. She was pathetic and yet she couldn't struggle her fear.

As a matter of fact, she'd never met anyone like Shienhan before. As unbelievable as it sounded, this single guy was a massive deny of everything she had learned about men in her whole life. Men craved control, she'd always known that. Some used their fists, others used their words or their money but no matter the means, control was all they longed for. Her grandmother had warned her about that and life had never proved her wrong. Lunch's father beating her anytime for no reasons and leaving her on her own after drinking all the house's money proved it right. The handsome bastard who took her virginity and left her behind, pregnant and lost at fifteen proved it right. The boss of the bar where she used to work as a teenager seven days a week for five zenis an hour proved it right.

Actually, Lunch's childhood had been the complete demonstration of this theory. Her mother had died in a car crash as she was a baby and she'd been raised by her drunkard of a father. Fortunately enough, Lunch's grandmother had been living nearby and she had always been a refugee for the girl each time things had escalated to something unbearable. Still, Lunch's father had always denied the possibility to have his kid raised by the old woman. _Men craved control. You remind him of your mother and he treats you the same,_ her grandmother had told her when she was only seven. Lunch had never forgotten her words. She only needed some more years to understand them properly and although her grandmother was now long gone, she was still right.

As soon as Lunch turned 18, she ran away from the small town where she'd grown up and once rid of her father, she'd sworn to never let anyone have control on her life again. Since guys were unsurprisingly the same all over the world, she decided that the best way to deal with them was to act the very same as them. It was quite simple. Just take what you wish for and leave the rest behind.

Her usual policy wouldn't work with Shienhan though. She had no time to take anything from him because he would give her everything she hadn't even suspected she wished for and she still hadn't figured out what she would like to leave behind. It was disturbing.

When she had started dating him she had expected to make out rather quickly the nastiness behind the gentleman's behavior. She knew the game. He would pretend he cared for her by rubbing his money in her face - buying her some priceless presents and/or taking her to select places. After that, he would in all logic flirt with her in a pushy manners while considering she owed him one and expecting her to jump into his bed at first command. All that, without ever wondering about her true liking. Yet, none of that happened and each date with him had left her even more puzzled.

His shyness had touched her in the first place, but what hit her mind above all was his kindness. He was a calm and caring nature and it provided her an usual comfort. She was the restless, harsh type in normal times but not with him. She admitted that she had lowered her guard quicker than she'd intended to.

They'd been dating each other for over a week by now and it was the first time they found themselves in bed. Lunch had hinted more than once at that possibility and she wasn't used to guys ever refusing her offers but Shienhan had been hard to coax. He had even ended up apologizing somehow, insisting he wasn't used to sleep with girls such little time after their encounter although she had been the one dragging him to bed.

Basically, her sole intention had been to have access to his apartment as to be able to hack the computer, but she had also found out that she lusted him. He was attractive and she craved to have more of him. Yet, even the sex she had with him happened to leave her confused. Just like she had guessed in anticipation, he was hardly experimented and he hadn't indulged into anything pervert or eccentric. Technically he had been a quite classical lover, but there had been something special in his way. She wouldn't be able to pinpoint what it was but it was different and exhilarating. She wanted more of that. She needed more of him and it called for caution.

The computer's screen flashed for a while until it displayed a list of file named with numbers. Lunch blinked in indecision. Should she copy all of them? There was an endless row of them and she was reluctant to lose more time on that. She watched each name with care and realized the numbers were in fact forming dates. A lot of them were past and she decided she would only copy the days to come. She clicked on the chosen files and launched the transfer.

The process began but it was slow. She sighed in annoyance. She wasn't even sure the copy would be useful. The device had just sorted out the files with the highest protection. Her impatience told her to check out that the risk was worth it and she opened the file matching Vegeta's duty in two days. The text was written in Easternish. She cursed under her breath. Goku will need a translator for that. She scrolled down the page and found the pictures of a house along with a map illustrating the document.

Lunch squinted and tried to spot any hint about the place. She focused on the map. It was a town near the sea. The name of the sea was written in Westernish letters. _Coral Sea._ She studied the map further while trying to list all the pretty towns near Coral Sea. She noticed the map of the town mentioned a lighthouse and something hit her mind. By sheer luck, she'd been in that town before. It was a quiet seaside resort called Paprika Beach. She smirked. Someone was planning a little trip at the sea, it seemed.

She closed the file with jubilation. This was gold and Goku would have to pay dear for it. She waited for the device to be done and turned everything off. She packed off all her equipment and repressed a sigh. She wasn't exactly done, yet. She scanned the twilight and located Shienhan's jacket resting on the backrest of the couch. She fumbled the pocket and fished out his phone. She had memorized his unlocking code the first day in the car and she did it without a second thought.

Her heart skipped a beat as the first thing showing up when the screen cleared up was their text chat. She couldn't help but read again the messages they had sent to each other. It happened to be a painful reminder of how good she had felt all along while connecting with him. It had been nothing near a classical job. In normal times, whenever she had to go close to guys for professional purposes, everything she said or did was fake. Her every words and acts were hollow and planned in a useful, cold manner. She realized how different it was with Shienhan and the damn nagging guilt pierced her heart forcefully again. She stood numb for a while and the screen turned back again, demanding the unlocking code to be composed one more time.

All this was insane. She'd known him for hardly a week and he was actually nothing more than an average guy with a loser's personal life. She wouldn't give up to control and she wouldn't fall for him. She had been caught off guard because he was somehow different, but she had no doubt that she would find out his flaws soon enough provided she dug a bit longer into his life. She couldn't afford to lose money on pointless feelings. Not to mention, she had a fame to save. She was the best and she intended to stay on top. She chased away the chat displayed on the screen and started browsing the device in search for anything useful. She was disappointed once again as Shienhan had everything written in Easternish.

She switched off the phone and grabbed her bag. Locking herself in the toilets as a caution, she took some tools out of her bag and started working on Shienhan's device. She was done in about ten minutes and contemplated the result. The phone looked untouched, the very same she had found in the pocket of Shienhan's jacket. He shouldn't suspect anything, but Goku would be pleased.

She put everything back in place silently and walked back to the bedroom. Towering the bed, she studied the sleeper's face for a while. He looked innocent and happy. And beautiful. The bitchy guilt kicked her again. She took place carefully back in the bed, but when she laid down, she felt a mighty arm curling around her waist from behind and pressing her closer. "Is something wrong?" Shienhan's low voice whispered.

She rolled over to him and stroke his cheek gently. She couldn't even force a smile on her face and gave him a stern gaze. "Nothing serious. A nightmare. I have a hard time going back to sleep."

He grinned at her. "Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want to tell me about your nightmare?"

She felt a pang at his offer. The real nightmare might be ending the mission and never seeing him again and she had just seriously helped it happen. "Only some old ghosts haunting me," she replied.

He ran his hand through her hair and sighed. "Ghosts are hard to chase, but feel free to share them with me. Maybe I can prevent them from harming you. I hate the idea of anyone doing you any harm."

Her heart wrenched at his words and the guilt turned to an aching knot in her guts. She gave him a weak smile. "Where the hell does a guy like you come from? I wished you showed up earlier in my life."

He frowned in concern. "Is it so bad?"

She chuckled at that. "Don't worry about me and my ghosts. Just stay as you are," she answered before pressing her lips on his.

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	17. 16 Free Fall

_So, there we are again. I wish I could update earlier but I had a small hiccup in my further plot and I needed to fix it before I could carry on. According to my plans, I might be able to have more regular updates from now on. Thanks for all the nice things._

* * *

 **Chapter 16 - Free Fall**

Gohan felt somewhat abashed by the unusual crowd swarming the Dojo. In normal time the audience was mostly composed by parents and relatives of the kids fighting in the tournament, but tonight was special. The coach had told them that Masters of some Martial Art's schools would attend the local tournament in order to weigh the performance of each little fighters. They were searching for new recruits and hoping to discover promising pupils among them. Gohan assumed it was the reason why the place was more crowded than usual.

His eyes drifted along the bleachers and he actually recognized the familiar faces of some famous Masters sitting amid the audience. His heart raced in excitement and fear. He couldn't help but secretly hope that they would notice him. For a minute he wanted to forget that he stood no chance of entering a real Martial Art's school as his mother had been very firm about fighting remaining a simple hobby. There was no way she would allow him to be dragged away from school to dedicate more time to Martial Arts. In her opinion, she was already too compromising to grant him four hours a week to practice his favorite sport and if it hadn't been for his father pointing at the pride she should feel about her son, she would have banned any participation to any tournament.

Gohan still dreamt that she might feel proud enough to put her obsession for study aside if he was offered a place in a prestigious Martial Art School. Maybe.

He sighed and resumed his stretching absently. He was snatched out of his daydreaming by frantic whispers of his comrades standing around him. He looked up at the audience again in an attempt to figure out what had triggered such reaction and realized Videl's father had just showed up. He talked to a notorious Master and sat next to him.

Gohan couldn't help a shiver. Although Satan was on the other end of the huge room, the boy felt like facing his accusing glare. Two kids standing nearby mocked the Champion and chuckled while glancing at Videl some meters away. The sight of the girl ignoring them with care stung Gohan's heart.

He turned his head to his father. Considering his former Champion's title, the coach had agreed to Goku staying with the kids instead of attending the tournament sitting among the audience. That way, he could support Gohan and give him advice as much as needed.

Gohan usually loved these moments when his father turned into his coach. He felt very important in his eyes then. Yet, today, Gohan would have liked it better if Goku had just been sitting next to his mother like any normal Dad.

Gohan searched the crowd for his mother and spotted her, sure face and arms crossed upon her chest. She looked constantly pissed lately. She was especially mad at his father but she always was, so the boy wasn't sure if that meant anything. As far as Gohan knew it could be as well due to him leaving the toilet pan up. Goku hadn't spent much time with them in the past week though. Was it what caused his mother's sour mood? This was a possibility. Although she claimed that she wanted him out of her house, she liked to have him around. The boy knew better than rely on his mother's words. She could say something, act otherwise and still think a different thing. Better was not to try to understand, his father had taught him.

"See who's here?" Goku's voice whispered in his ear.

"I see Satan, and the leader of the Crane School," Gohan stated with a nod.

Goku shook his head. "Not them, watch in the back row, up the bleacher."

Gohan squinted and scanned the audience but he couldn't find any familiar face.

"There," his father pointed at a weird guy with cold piercing eyes, "this is the great Piccolo."

Gohan's eyes widened. He'd never seen Piccolo for real. The legendary Martial Artist liked to keep his distance from people and he hardly attended Championships or Tournaments anymore. Yet, he was still known as one of the greatest fighter of all time.

"I can't believe he's looking for disciples," Goku added thoughtfully.

"Maybe he isn't," Gohan said nervously. "Maybe he's just there to… watch."

The boy's voice was a shaking whisper. There was no way a fighter like Piccolo would attend a Junior local tournament just for fun but the idea that such a great Champion would see him fight froze the kids' guts.

"Huh. Keep stretching, Gohan. I wouldn't like you to lose because of a stupid cramp," Goku answered.

Gohan did as he was told, but he couldn't put Piccolo's unreadable gaze out of his mind.

Then, the coach called them to salute the North district fighters before the beginning of the tournament. When the presentation of both teams was done, Gohan was sent to sit in wait for his turn to fight. He sat legs crossed on the ground in a row with his team mates and watched the first fight.

He couldn't focus on the spar though. His eyes always darted back to the tall man sitting motionless on the upper bleachers, his face as unaffected as stone.

Gohan was feeling really stressed out and he needed to turn to his Dad standing against the wall behind him in search for some comfort. That's when he noticed a strange guy had joined Goku. The kid had never seen him before. He was shorter than his father with weird hair shaped like a flame above his head. Gohan considered him with some curiosity.

He was definitely the type his mother would hate with his leather jacket, his worn out rangers and the helmet hanging at his arms pointing clearly he was a biker. Chichi would doubtlessly call him riffraff and that fact drew even more the boy's attention on him.

The stranger and his father were chatting in low voice and they didn't realize Gohan could hear their talk. The biker was staring at pictures his Dad had given him. Gohan couldn't see what they were about but it was enough to let him know it was about Goku's work.

"Not bad but it isn't worth a thing as long as we don't get the main target. You said you'd have something for me," the guy muttered while sliding the pictures into his jacket.

Goku gave him a cryptic grin. "And I do. Something definitely unhoped for."

The biker had a questioning frown but Goku averted his gaze to the tatami. Gohan turned around in a swift move in fear of being caught listening to them.

The boy realized the first fight was over and his team mate had won over the North district kid. Both children were sweating and panting as they saluted each other.

"Go on, winner," Goku's voice said behind Gohan's back. The boy struggled to his feet as the coach called his name as the next to fight.

Gohan trotted to him. His coach was a small bald guy with a round face but his stern gaze was still impressive. "Watch out your defense, Gohan," he growled with a pat on his shoulder.

Gohan bowed his head in respect and headed to the tatami. When he stood in front of his opponent in the middle of the fighting area, he couldn't help but raise his eyes again to the dark figure towering over the upper bleacher. Something flared in his guts and he focused on the kid facing him. He was the same heights and frame as him with cropped hair and hard black eyes.

The North district of West City was something different from the Middle district Gohan was living in. Street fighting was a sort of customs there and the little fighters belonging to the club had much more practice than Gohan and his team mates. For sure, none of them had a mother they needed to beg to let them fight. They were fearless and cunning with questionable loyalty and few qualms. Gohan had been beaten by them two years before as he was eight. He hadn't expected them to give him such a hard time. Yet, today was different, he swore. He won't let them catch him off guard. Especially not when Master Piccolo was watching.

Gohan's opponent was quick and resistant to pain. Each time Gohan was successful to hit him, he had the feeling he was hurting himself as much as he was hurting the boy. The other one managed a blow in Gohan's ribs forcing him to back away for a moment. It came to Gohan's mind that his opponent wasn't caring to hold back his strikes, so Gohan had little choice but to follow his pace and he stopped worrying about the harm he would cause. The thought of Master Piccolo witnessing the spar helped him to do so. There was no way Gohan could lose with the living legend in the audience.

So, he stroke. He punched and kicked every time the opportunity was given to him and he did it hard, leaving no time for his opponent to catch his breath and uncaring for his own pain.

He felt angry without knowing the reason. A unexpected fury spread into his body making him quicker and more ruthless with each minute. He was almost disappointed when the arbitrator yelled as to end the spar. Gohan was bewildered to find the North district's boy on the ground, panting with a trickle of blood dripping form his lips. The kid glared back at him and Gohan stretched out an apologetic hand to help him stand up. The other fighter huffed and slapped his hand away causing a bark from his own coach. Yet, he ignored the lecture and walked back to his team with his eyes gleaming with tears.

Gohan felt sorry by his reaction and saluted him either way.

As he went back to his team sitting on the edge of the tatami, he noticed the stunned faces of his team mates. Videl was staring at him with disbelieving eyes that had him shiver and he wondered for a blink if he hadn't done something wrong.

He searched his Dad's familiar figure for approval and he was relieved to find out Goku was wearing a large, proud beam. The guy next to him was giving Gohan an odd look. He seemed surprised and impressed. Gohan wondered if Master Piccolo was impressed as well, yet it was very unlikely. Master Piccolo had seen thousand fighters sparring in million fights, why would he be impressed by a simple Junior local tournament's performance?

Gohan sat silently back in the row while the next fight was starting. He couldn't wait for his turn to come again. Maybe he'd do it to the final fight. "Good job," his father's voice whispered from behind.

Gohan didn't turn around to look at him but a shy grin stretched his lips.

After that, he decided to watch closely the following fight as a way to study each fighter's habits. He noted them mentally with care. If he seriously intended to win the tournament, he'd better be ready. Actually he hadn't given it a serious thought before. What he wanted in the first place was for his team to beat the North District team as a revenge for his humiliation two years before. Truth was Gohan had always been more interested in the fight in itself than in the glory of being the one to beat them all and he rarely won the first place. Most of the time, he would be second or third in the individual ranking. It was the first time he urged to be the best overall. The need was seething in his whole body. His limbs craved action like mad dogs and he had a hard time sitting quietly in wait for his turn.

His second fight was even faster than the first one. The opponent had such weak defense that Gohan's strikes met him each time. Gohan had found out that the boy had dreadful attacks and he wasn't used to care for his reflex of protection. Yet, Gohan was much swifter than him and he had hardly time to try a single blow. Thus, he was beaten in no time. Gohan had to repress a blissful beam when they saluted at the end of the fight.

He felt incredibly light. It was like having pure energy running in his veins. Everything looked easy, every move of his opponents looked unbelievably slow.

After the second round, two kids of each team were left and the arbitrator declared a break.

Gohan seized the opportunity to walk to his father. The other guy was still there, although their talk had seemingly come to an end.

"Gohan, you're doing great boy. I never saw you so good. You have to beat them," Goku exclaimed in a cheerful voice.

"I will, dad," the boy claimed. He gave the stranger a glance with the hope that his father would tell him who he was, but Goku was now talking with the coach, oblivious of his friend's presence. The biker contemplated Gohan with an emotionless face which gave the boy a thrill. The kid deemed wiser to give up to any small talk with him and joined his team mates as the coach was briefing them.

"Limo, the tall guy, is the most dangerous. Your comrade who fought him can tell you. One blow and you won't make it through. Furthermore, he's quick and hard to catch. Be aware of him. Gohan, you'll be the next to fight him," the coach explained.

"If Gohan can't make it, I'll bite his head off," Videl claimed bluntly.

Gohan stared at her in unease. He was concerned that no one had eliminated her so far. It would be too bad to meet her in the final fights. What would he do, then? As he was worriedly mulling over the question, he met her straight piercing eyes. A shiver ran down his spine as he understood that she was craving for this opportunity to happen. He prayed Kami that someone would beat her before that. He still hadn't made up his decision about the prospect of letting her win in a fight as a retribution of the humiliation he had inflicted her by snapping the photos of Satan with his father. He lectured himself silently. With Piccolo attending the fight, he shouldn't even consider losing.

"Lunch had the information from Shienhan's computer so it's pretty sure," he heard his father say as he sat back on the edge of the tatami.

"Paprika Bay? Never heard of that place before," the biker answered.

"It's splendid and as much as I could check there's no better place for a small shooting," Goku answered.

Shooting again. Gohan couldn't explain why his Dad was so keen on snapping photos of people who wanted nothing more than to be left alone. He couldn't help a slight frown as his eyes fell on Videl fighting an impressive big girl.

The North District fighter would block most of Videl's blow and seemed unaffected by her successful strikes. Fortunately, Videl was quick enough to dodge all of the girl's attempts. _Take her down_ , Gohan thought as if Videl could hear anything going on in his brain.

It lasted a moment before Satan's daughter came to the same conclusion as Gohan and she toppled her opponent over with a cunning, well-placed kick. After that, each effort the girl made to struggle back to her feet gave Videl an opportunity to throw a blow at her, causing her to hit the ground again. The North district girl was strong and very resilient but she lacked agility and she was slower than Videl. Gohan could see her face turning red in anger and pain as each attempt she made to take back the upper hand ended up in her losing her balance and receiving a new hit. Tears of frustration were welling up her eyes when the arbitrator yelled the end of the spar.

When Videl walked back to her place at the edge of the tatami, Gohan met her challenging eyes. Her cocky face was screaming "Your turn will come" and Gohan's guts twisted.

Limo was able to hit Gohan in the first seconds of the fight and it hurt a hell. However, it also kindled something in Gohan's mind. Once again, he felt this disturbing rage back in his veins. The coach had been right. The North District boy was nothing near a piece of cake, his muscles hard like concrete and his blow formidable like bludgeons but, for some reasons, Gohan liked it much more than the easy opponent he had before.

The fury in him made him somehow oblivious of the pain and urged him to strike back always quicker and always harder. It took some more time, but Limo ended up sitting on the ground, doubled over in pain and out of breath. Only then, Gohan became aware of the roar of joy coming from the audience. His team had won with two members left whist the North district had no more fighter standing.

The coach congratulated them as cheerfully as his stoical nature allowed him to. Gohan looked at his mother sitting among the crowd. She looked bewildered and he decided she was proud of him too. That's when the arbitrator declared that the next fights would be the final one and determine the individual winner.

Only then, Gohan realized his terrible situation. He lacked air all of a sudden and his eyes searched his father for support.

Unnoticed from him, Goku was standing just behind him. He wrapped an arm around the kid's shoulder and dragged him apart to the wall he'd been leaning on the whole time.

"Gohan, you can't lose," Goku grunted in a sharp voice.

The boy lifted helpless eyes to him. The weird biker was still there and witnessing silently their talk but Gohan paid him no attention. "Dad, I - huh," Gohan stammered.

"Stop your nonsense, kid. Piccolo is watching you," Goku reminded in a bossy tone.

Gohan gasped and gazed at the tall figure still sitting motionless on the other side of the Dojo. "Dad, I'm not sure it matters after all. No matter the reason why he is here, Mum would never leave me…"

Goku squeezed his shoulder in a harsh grip. "Don't think of her. Forget everyone, Gohan. Forget that girlfriend of yours, or her dumb father. Forget me. Just focus on the fight like you did so far."

Gohan blinked and gazed at him in disbelief. Never before he'd heard his father's voice turning so stern and pressing. It felt like he was someone else at this very moment. Gohan couldn't say if he was scared or angered at this. Maybe both. He snatched his shoulder out of his hold. "She's not my girlfriend," he hissed.

He walked back to the tatami with a stiff step. He knew now that he should do only what he thought right. No matter Piccolo, his mother or his dad. No matter Videl or her dad because Gohan was the only one to walk in his shoes, so he should be the only one to decide the way he wanted to walk. If only he'd known which way that was.

When he bowed into the saluting stance while facing Videl, he met her single-minded gaze. She wouldn't be soft to him. Maybe that was for the best.

At first, all he could do was backing away and dodging her strikes. One of her blows reached him on the shoulder, yet it did him no harm compared to Limo's hits. The situation turned quickly weird. The audience was confused at this fight that was only a game of cat and mouse and Videl became upset. "What the hell is wrong with you? Fight, you coward!" she groaned in a low voice while glaring at him.

And so he did. He felt slow and clumsy, missing her most of the time, stumbling in the process. She had no pity though. She hit him once, twice. She hit hard, aiming at the bruises he had from the previous fights, using all the weakness she knew him to have. He'd expected the rage to be back in his guts but there was nothing. Just a hollow, helpless feeling.

At some point, he stood in the open. He was recovering from a harsh punch in the face and he should have positioned himself in a defensive stance in anticipation for whatever was to come next. He should have especially shielded his already sore face and shoulder. And yet, he felt numb. His eyes met Videl's a short moment. The shame in his eyes couldn't compete with the fury in hers and she threw a formidable kick straight in the side of his head.

As he tumbled down, he had the feeling that no one had ever hurt him so much. He was flung away and hit the tatami with a deafening thud. That was when he gave up. His body was still able to struggle to his feet, no doubt, but his mind had no more will.

Shame, sadness and pain overwhelmed him as the arbitrator's voice echoed to stop the spar. At this moment, his face still pressed against the floor, he wished he could disappear in space once and for all.

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	18. 17 Tour and Detour

_Hey. Well, I know an update every three months is a shame, especially when I promised regular updates. Either way, I have some chapters in store, so I'll try to mend myself and be a better girl from now on._

 _Thank you for all the nice things._

* * *

 **Chapter 17 - Tour and detour**

The driver wasn't Guy. Nor was he any of the other ones Vegeta had met before. He was a tall man with dark skin and little desire to talk. It fitted perfectly the Saiyan's mood. Even the Heiress sitting in the back of the car was silent as they were heading for some unknown destination. Goku had said they were supposed to go spend a few days at Paprika Bay with the baseball player, but Vegeta knew better than trust blindly his information.

Bulma had ordered the driver to play classical music and the track she'd picked up was awfully gloomy. The rain pouring outside added some bleakness to the atmosphere and Vegeta actually assumed that it didn't exactly match a departure for a romantic week-end on the shore - Not that he was much of an expert in romantic week-end anyway.

His instinct was proved right as he gave a better look at the streets they were driving through and realized they weren't taking the right direction to Paprika Bay. He repressed a huff of annoyance. Had Goku been fooled once again? Vegeta couldn't help but wonder if Lunch had somehow tried to swindle them. That damn woman would do that without a second thought. Bulma Briefs' unexpected change of plans was also a possibility, but either way Vegeta had to know in order to warn Goku one way or another.

He forced a smile on his face and turned around to the backseat. "What are we up to today, Ms Briefs?" he asked.

Bulma Briefs was sitting with her knees folded against her body and watching through the window. She didn't grant him a single glance. "I told you could call me Bulma," she said absently.

He repressed a sigh at her lack of reply. "I'd rather not."

She shrugged and pressed the button to close the window between the backseat and the front seat.

Vegeta turned back to the road with a huff. She was a real bitch. No doubt.

"She's nervous," the driver stated against all odds.

Vegeta arched an eyebrow. So, this driver was gifted with a voice. "How is that?"

The driver pointed at something further on the road. "See where we're going?"

The Saiyan looked at what he was showing. A panel was claiming they were entering Shinobe's Hospital. "Hospital? Why are we here? Is she sick?"

The driver shrugged out of ignorance and drove up the alley to the entrance of the Hospital. It was a luxury private place surrounded with endless lawns neatly mowed. The driver parked near the main door of the building and when he killed the motor, the music sounded even more depressing. The man grabbed an umbrella and climbed out the car to go open his boss' door. Yet, before he knew it, Bulma had exited the car regardless of the rain and she was making her way to the steps leading to the entrance of the hospital.

Cursing her under his breath, the Saiyan dashed out of the car and rushed in her wake. She ignored him and stepped along a large corridor with a marbled floor. Except for the medical staff wandering around with white coats and stethoscopes, the place looked more like an old-style hotel than like a hospital.

He followed her without a word. She looked like she knew exactly where she was going and Vegeta concluded it wasn't the first time she was coming. He sought his memory for anything Goku had mentioned that would tell him why she would visit such place. As far as he knew she wasn't sick and neither were any of the few people close to her. This mystery made him even more watchful and curious about her.

At some point, she sneaked into an elevator ready to go and Vegeta had to hold back the door at the last minute to enter the cabin with her. He glared at her. "Ms Briefs, are you trying to lose me again?" he asked while trying hard to hide his annoyance.

She frowned and diverted her eyes. "I just forgot about you," she grumbled.

Vegeta didn't reply. The story of her former bodyguard she had locked into the men's toilets came back to his mind. His presence obviously bothered her more than ever at that moment and he had to be careful if he didn't want to be fooled the way the previous bodyguard had been. Yet, what mattered right now was that he might discover something new about her today and he'd deserved that reward enough after enduring her wimps.

She kept her eyes glued to the ground until the doors of the elevator slid open. She exited the cabin and walked up another corridor, Vegeta still close behind.

She stopped at last before a closed door. Only then, she looked up at him. "Wait here," she said.

"I have to check…"

"Not this time. Not in this place. Wait for me," she cut off.

Her voice was commanding and stern. He didn't insist and nodded. There was a hint of gratefulness in her eyes when he did. Her acting was quite unusual to him. In normal time, she was loud and bossy, always trying to tease him, but it seemed she had no will to fight today. He definitely craved to know what all this was about.

She entered the room and closed the door behind her. He sighed and noted the number of the room. She was visiting someone. Who? Why? He was seething, having no mean to warn Goku or to ask him to investigate about this place. He thought about asking someone for a cell or try to find a phone somewhere at the reception desk. It was much too risky though. The rule was clear. He wasn't allowed to give personal calls during duty and Bulma Briefs might be too glad to have an opportunity to fire him. Furthermore, if he was gone when she would come out of the room, she wouldn't hesitate to leave him behind.

He watched around him. People were scarce in the corridor and no one was paying attention to him. He leaned to the door in an attempt to hear what was on inside the room. However, everything was still except for an inaudible whisper. He sighed and gave up. It seemed there was no way he would learn anything today. Goku would search the information later.

He leaned his back against the wall and crossed his arms. After a while, a bulky nurse walked by him and entered the room without even knocking at it. He had no time to say anything as she shut the door behind her. Once again, he came closer to the door and tried to catch the talk inside. He could only hear meaningless words "fine", "doctor", "time". Nothing consistent.

Yet, when the nurse exited the room Vegeta grabbed her arm to stop her. "How is she?" he asked with the lower voice he could.

The nurse blinked at him and remained speechless for a while.

"I'm her friend. You can tell me the truth," he resumed by hoping he'd picked up the right word. He was half referring to Bulma, half referring to whomever the nurse would like.

"Well, still the same. In such case, it's always hard to tell when people will wake up."

Vegeta gave a concerned nod. "But… She will… wake up, won't she?"

The nurse pinched her lips. "Only the doctor can tell. You should ask him," she replied.

"Did Ms Briefs speak with him?" Vegeta carried on by pointing his chin at the door.

The nurse pulled her arm away from his loose grip. "You know, you should see that directly with her because she handles all the medical matters," she utters with caution.

Vegeta knew she was reluctant to tell more and if he insisted she would turn suspicious. He let go of her. "Thank you for your kindness," he ended, forcing a hint of sadness in his voice.

She gave him a thin smile and walked away. Vegeta rubbed his chin. So, Briefs was visiting a woman. Said woman was in coma and her state wasn't likely to improve. Said woman was also dear enough to the Heiress' heart to have her handle all the medical matters. What the hell was this about?

Bulma stayed in the room for about half an hour before she went out, her face even more closed off than when she'd entered it. She ignored Vegeta and made her way past him and back to the entrance of the hospital.

The Saiyan didn't let her baffle him and he kept following her in silence. When they stepped out the building, the car was gone.

This time, Vegeta wasn't caught off guard by the detail. He was getting used to the Heiress liking for unexpected plans and he fathomed much better why Goku had such a hard time tailing her at the time.

As they stood under the rain in the empty parking lots he turned to her. "So? What now?"

"Wait," she said.

He considered her. Her light trench coat was already half soaked and she was shivering at the damp air. He arched an eyebrow. "Under the rain?"

She gave him a weak smirk. "I assume a Saiyan wouldn't shrink from a drizzle but if you're cold you can go back into the hallway. I won't mind."

He repressed a scowl at the pique. "We're in the open again," he stated.

"I love the open, don't you? It's thrilling," she replied.

He shrugged. "It's dangerous," he mumbled.

"Life is dangerous. You are annoying, Mr Ouji," she sighed. She had uttered his name with care and he took it as a hint for her irritation at the fact he didn't want her to call him by his first name. He was amused by this detail as it pointed out that she wasn't used to people refusing her anything.

"That's for us," she claimed as a cab drove into the parking lot.

Vegeta studied the driver with some wariness. It was a fat talkative guy with an awful pink shirt hardly able to contain his round belly. The car was a decaying banger. Wherever Briefs was intending to go into such thing, she wasn't sure to arrive anywhere.

They took place in the backseat and the driver turned to them with a beam. "So, Lady and Gentleman where do I take you?"

"Central Station," Bulma replied.

"Here we go!" the driver exclaimed with more pep than the statement deserved.

All their way through the town's traffic, the engine kept roaring in agony. The windshield wipers were hardly able to chase away the rain pouring down and the seats were so weary Vegeta had the feeling to be sitting directly on the floor of the car. The Heiress seemed to enjoy the trip though.

"Ready for a little romantic trip?" the driver asked playfully.

Bulma chuckled at the question. It was the first time Vegeta saw her smile that day. "Sort of," she answered.

"Sort of? I don't wanna know what you mean by that. Where are you going?" the driver resumed cheerfully.

"Parsely City," the Heiress said.

Vegeta gritted his teeth at that. Man, that wasn't Paprika Bay at all. He really needed to call Goku. This moron would get stuck in Paprika Bay waiting uselessly for them while the job had to be done elsewhere. Yet, Vegeta wasn't even sure if Bulma's aim was to join Yamcha at all. She was indeed exhausting and restless.

"Parsely City is a nice place," the driver pointed out. All by talking, he took a brutal left turn and Vegeta was shoved against the passenger door with Bulma crashing on him in the process. The door looked utterly insecure and for a split second, the Saiyan dreaded to be dropped out of the car.

"Hey, sorry for that. I almost missed the turn," the driver laughed with a glance at them. "Ma'ame, take this towel you're soaked," he added while handing an old rag to her.

She took it politely but figured out it might be the rag he used to whip his windshield. "Huh, it's okay, thanks."

Vegeta was tense at the car's speed. The driver was talking and turning to them every minute, giving the road a very slight attention and it made the Saiyan even more nervous. He definitely liked it better in the Heiress' luxury cars with a real driver. Bulma had gripped the seat with all her strength. "We have time, you know. No need to hurry," she stated.

"I don't want to get stuck in the traffic jam when I'll be back from the station. That's it. You'll have time for a coffee there," the driver replied with another stupid chuckle.

Vegeta couldn't take it any longer. He grabbed the guy's shoulder forcefully and leaned forward to have his mouth at his ear's level. "If you don't slow down now, like she just asked you to, you won't have to worry for your trip back from the station. Just slow down and for God's sake, shut up," he groaned.

The Saiyan's grip was firm enough to call for a silent reply. The car slowed down and Vegeta leaned back in his seat. Bulma gave him a grateful look, but the stillness in the car seemed to drag her back to her stern mood.

When the guy dropped them at the station the rain had stopped.

"I'm soaked. I'm gonna get new clothes in the shops inside the station," Bulma claimed.

Vegeta didn't ask any question and followed her as always. As she was chatting with a seller in the clothes shop he started to wonder if she really intended to take a train. He knew by now everything was possible with her. Maybe everything she'd said to the taxi driver was bullshit and maybe her only aim had to come to this shop.

"You like it?" her voice interrupted his meditation. He looked up at her. She was wearing white trousers and a stripped top sailor's type. The seller and her were giving him expectant gazes.

"Sure," he answered absently.

"You don't care," Bulma stated, "he doesn't care, does he?" she asked the seller again.

"I'm sure he does," the seller replied with a comforting smile.

Bulma grinned at her. "Don't worry . You don't need to cover him. Any of this is for him anyway. I just wanted an outside opinion but I forgot I don't pay him for that. I take the complete outfit."

Vegeta repressed a growl of despise. "At what time is the train anyway?" he asked.

"Soon enough, Mr Ouji," she replied cryptically.

So, there was indeed a train. How weird for a person as rich as she was. Vegeta hadn't taken a train for a very long time. The last he'd boarded had made his way throughout the frozen Mountains separating Vegitasei from the Ice Empire and it wasn't a pleasant memory.

As they stepped out of the shop, Bulma headed straight to a platform and climbed into a train. The Saiyan had just enough time to spot the destination before they entered the wagon. "Paprika Bay".

Relief washed over him as he took place in his seat. Lunch's tip had been right after all. They would go to Paprika Bay. Bulma sat next to him with a magazine she had bought on her way and the train departed.

They slowly left the town behind and the concrete gave way to endless meadows spreading under a grey sky. The sight was monotone, yet somehow soothing.

"Mr Ouji? Would you mind lending me your jacket? I think I've been somewhat rash to pick out short sleeves. If you're not cold yourself that is." Bulma asked.

He diverted his eyes from the landscape and looked up at her. "Sure," he grumbled.

He took care to take the gun out of the pocket. He realized he hadn't even loaded the weapon so far and it was reckless from him. Not that he was a real bodyguard anyway, but he wanted to look as such. He stuck the gun in his belt and covered it with his shirt. Then he handed his jacket to the Heiress. She slipped into it and gave him a smile. "You're not very social, are you? I'm amazed to find out you can be nice."

Nice. He'd been called many names before but he couldn't remember anyone calling him nice. He smiled at the thought. "You're the first person I meet who finds me nice," he replied.

"Really, it's worrying at your age," she retorted.

"Are you nice yourself, Ms Briefs?"

She gaped at the question. "Of course I am," she exclaimed.

"Well, you weren't this morning," he pointed out.

She scowled. "I was sad. That's something different."

He turned his gaze back to the window next to him. "Because of the hospital, right?"

"Yes," she breathed out.

Vegeta had never been the talkative type, but for some reasons words were coming easily at this time and he was aware that being stuck in this train for another two or three hours alone with her, he should seize the opportunity to learn a bit more about his target.

"You want to tell me the story?" he asked while looking back at her.

She had an instant frown. He could sense her suspicion. "I mean, since we're stuck here and all. But if you don't want to talk, we don't need to," he added.

Her features eased off and he was pleased to find out his words were right. "It's a nasty story. I'll tell you if you tell me something similar about you," she offered.

He chuckled. "I have tons of nasty stories to tell. Go on."

She scratched her head in hesitation as she was looking for the better way to say things. "Well, the woman I was visiting was my personal assistant and a dear friend of mine. My best friend. A confident. She was shot with a bullet destined to me."

He arched his eyebrows. "When did that happen?"

She bit her lips. "About a month ago. She'll certainly never wake up." She was clearly embarrassed and she couldn't bear with his gaze. She looked away and kept still.

As he was piecing everything up, Vegeta realized that this was likely the reasons why the Capsule Corps was suddenly in need for temporary secretaries like Giada and the person who shot the secretary was likely the very same who attempted to shoot Yamcha and her some days ago. Things sounded serious even though nothing had happened in the past days. He would have to pay his gun some serious mind.

"I lived the same thing with a friend of mine," he said as to break the silence.

She looked up at him with a puzzled face. "Did you? How did it happen?"

"Well, it was war. An enemy tried to shoot me and my friend got injured instead of me," he explained.

"Was it a dear friend?"

Vegeta smiled at the memory of Raditz. Raditz had always been a fearless prick. "We grew up together so I can say he was a dear friend of mine. He earned a terrible scar that day."

"Is he still alive?" she whispered.

Her question was somewhat bold considering most Saiyans were dead by now but Vegeta had stopped minding for bluntness. "Yes. He lives far away from here though. I don't know what he's up to."

He could read the relief on her face at his reply. A lively Saiyan was a rare thing.

"What happened in your country was terrible," she mumbled.

Vegeta gave a mere grunt and looked back at the window. "Where are we going?" he asked as to change the subject.

"That's a surprise. Let's rather eat something to cheer up the mood," she offered.

The trip was long and Vegeta felt lulled by the regular trepidation of the train. He needed to struggle hard to avoid dozing. Bulma had no trouble with that and she fell asleep right after the lunch. The story she had told him about the secretary was looping in his mind and as soon as he had the opportunity to leave the Heiress behind, he went to the toilets and loaded the gun.

When the train entered at last Paprika Bay's station the afternoon was well advanced. As always Vegeta followed his boss blindly as they climbed out of the train. He couldn't help but feel nervous as he realized Goku might be in town already. Vegeta and him had assumed the Heiress would travel in a luxury car with a driver instead of mixing with an unfamiliar crowd and taking the train. Paprika Bay wasn't very big and if Goku had the bad idea of strolling in the streets around the station they could bump into each other. Their whole plan would end in a total disaster.

The nice weather had attracted a fair amount of tourists from the towns nearby. People were swarming the hall of the station and Vegeta had to keep an eye on Bulma's unusual hair in order not to lose her in the crowd. She made her way to a car rental agency and turned to him. "There's a car booked in your name there," she claimed.

"In my name? Why is it in my name?" he questioned in surprise.

"Can you imagine I would book anything under my real name?" she stated.

"Good afternoon, may I help you?" a smiling woman asked behind the counter.

Vegeta had a second thought. He didn't like the way the Heiress was using him to play her cat and mouse obsessive game. He sighed. "I booked a car. Ouji," he growled.

"May I see your id card, Sir?" the employee requested.

He handed his id card to her. She gave a puzzled look at his Saiyan refugee card but didn't say anything. He noticed then that Bulma was perched on her toes and studying the card as well over the counter. Something clicked in Vegeta's head as he realized that her aim had been in fact to check out the reality of his identity. He was pretty sure Shienhan had done it already, but she clearly wanted to see it by herself. Was she suspicious about anything?

"Something wrong?" Vegeta asked as both women's scrutiny of his card was lingering.

"Everything is fine, Mr Ouji. I'll get your key and take you to your car in a moment," the woman behind the counter replied with a nervous smile.

She gave him his card back and led them to the parking lot. He was disappointed to find out the car was quite common. Nothing thrilling. He signed the papers and the woman handed him the keys. Bulma tried to reach out for them but he was quicker and snatched them from the employee's hand. "My name on the contract. My car. My wheel," he spat.

Bulma scowled at that but she didn't dare anything bossy while facing the employee. Vegeta climbed into the car and started the engine ignoring the greeting of the woman from the car rental agency.

The Heiress sat in the passenger seat and she had hardly time to slam her door shut before he drove away. After a whole day being driven anywhere he had to go, feeling the motor complying with his every order was a bliss extracting his mind from a kind of numbness.

"What was that crazy start for?" the Heiress complained. "You don't even know where we go."

"Tell me, then." He groaned.

She sighed. "Out of town toward Belladone Bay. Stay on the road along the coast."

He did as she told him. The landscape was wild except for scarce properties lining the shore and the road was completely deserted. He couldn't resist and sped away. Bulma had programmed the GPS which allowed her to focus silently on the mesmerizing sight of the ocean. Small waves were reflecting the sunlight, creating a thousand sparkling dots.

Their drive didn't last long before the car drove into a small park leading to a big house of stone and white wood. Vegeta recognized the house Goku had shown to him on Shienhan's pictures. He was relieved that everything was working out well so far. Maybe that mission would come to an end much quicker than planned. He had to admit that Goku was a terrific hunter. Teaming up with him had made everything much easier.

As soon as they parked the car, a fat woman with an apron stepped out of the house and welcomed them. "Good afternoon, Mrs Smith. Glad to meet you," she greeted Bulma.

"Good afternoon. I hope we're not late. Like I told you, I brought my assistant with me," Bulma replied by shaking the woman's hand.

"No problem. I'm Vera. I'll show you the house and leave you alone. The cook will be there in a couple hours just like you wished. Your luggage had been brought already," the woman explained.

Vegeta climbed out the car and contemplated the house for an instant. It was nice. Sort of fluffy and romantic. Perfect setting for the pictures Goku and him intended to snap. Not to mention the ocean and the beach. They wouldn't have picked up anything better themselves.

"Vegeta!" the Heiress called.

He frowned at his first name and turned to the women standing on the porch. Bulma bit his lips. "Mr Ouji," she corrected, "Come inside. Vera is going to show you where you'll stay."

He brought himself to join them and enter the house. The housekeeper was a middle aged woman with soft features. "I made you an extra room in a nice part of the house, just above the ocean. You'll be apart from Mr and Mrs Smith so that each of you can have their privacy."

"Great," he commented in a mere grunt.

The house was quite old. Everything was made out of wood and the smell of it was everywhere. The woman guided him to a big room with flowery wallpaper. The style was very old fashioned and would have rather fit a young girl, but Vegeta couldn't care less. He had to find a way to call Goku.

"Your stuff had been brought earlier. I took upon myself to hang the suits. I hope you don't mind," Vera claimed while opening the jealousy and allowing the mighty sunlight into the room.

"It's okay. Just tell me. Is there a phone I can use somewhere out of the house?"

"A public phone, you mean? Huh, I fear you'll have to go to the town for that," she replies. "Yet, we have a phone in the house. You can just…"

"Nevermind," Vegeta cut off.

She gave him a smooth smile. "If you have everything you need, I'll leave you alone. I still have to take care of Mrs Smith."

The Saiyan let her exit the room and closed the door behind her. He got rid of his uncomfortable jacket and took his gun out of his belt. He watched it an instant before throwing it on the bed. The tale of the secretary surged back in his mind. All the matter was weird. How could such event have gone unnoticed from Goku? What was that killer's business all about? Was it for real?

Vegeta had to admit he'd believed it was fake at first. The Saiyan still remembered the baseball player's eyes when he'd explained someone had tried to kill him. He'd been scared. He'd truly believed that someone had attempted to shoot him through the windows of his room back then. However, it hadn't prevented Vegeta from thinking the Heiress had organized that herself. Why would she do such a thing? He had no idea. She was crazy anyway. Maybe she craved for attention. Whatever. Now, the secretary lying in coma was definitely a new turn. As insane as she was, Bulma Briefs would never plot such a shitty scheme ending in her close friend being badly injured. Maybe Goku would be able to go see if the cops knew anything interesting about the event.

For now, Vegeta had to find a mean to reach him without arousing suspicion and although he hated the idea, caution told him to use Lunch's number.

A knock at his door snatched him out of his musing. He opened the door and found the Heiress standing on the doorstep. She cleared her throat in unease. "Shienhan just called," she said. "He was supposed to join us tomorrow night so that you could go back home but he got some business on. Would you mind working an extra day until we go back to West City?"

His first thought was to refuse the offer. The prospect of being stuck with Yamcha and her in that damn flowery house was already a chore and he had no desire to have it last more than 24 hours. However, his brain screamed something else instead. "No problem. I just have to warn my girlfriend. I need a phone," he replied.

She blinked. "Girlfriend?" she uttered in a puzzled tone.

Her blank face, reminding him how unlikely it was that he could have someone caring to know when he'll be back home, annoyed him to no end. "Well, yes. You hear it well. Why?"

"Huh. I didn't picture you - well, you can use the phone in the living room downstairs of course," she stammered out of embarrassment.

He scowled and cursed under his breath as he walked by her and downstairs to the living room. He wasn't sure if anyone would try to track his call. The Heiress was so paranoid that it was serious possibility. It was why he liked it better to call Lunch than Goku. He deemed it wiser to crypt their talk as well. He just hoped the bitch would pick up.

She did after four rings. "Yes?"

He felt awkward as he tried to figure out the way he was supposed to talk to her. "Hey, honey. It's me," he grumbled in a harsh voice.

"Let me guess. Guile? Chane? Yulan?," she answered with a chuckle.

The Saiyan cringed as he was caught off guard by her not recognizing him. However, she ended up resuming. "Relax Vegeta, I was just kidding."

He couldn't say why this woman always needed to have such vulgar humor. "I'm at work for now, but my boss might need me an extra day, so I'll come back home the day after tomorrow," he carried on.

"Huh. I see. Is everything going as planned?" she replied.

"Everything's fine. No need to worry," he confirmed.

"You should take a walk on the beach tomorrow. The weather will be very nice. Perfect to snatch some pictures of wild nature," she stated.

"Very good idea. We'll see that in time. I have to go now."

"Tell me something nice. I always wonder how it felt coming from you," she suggested with a mischievous voice.

He kept quiet. He was pretty sure Bulma was nearby and hearing his every word. Or maybe he was just imagining things. Anyway he couldn't take a chance. He had to play the game.

"Say it," Lunch purred on the line.

Hell, the Saiyan hated this damn woman. He was looking for words. He had to dig up some kind words a guy would tell his girlfriend.

"Dumbass! Come on, send me a kiss at least," Lunch laughed on the phone.

He gritted his teeth. Feeling clueless about the best way he was supposed to say goodbye to his so-called girlfriend, he just did what she hinted. "Kiss you. Bye," he hissed before hanging up in a hurry. He stared at the phone with a deep hatred.

"Is everything okay?" the Heiress asked behind his back. "I mean, she isn't mad, is she?"

Oh yes, Lunch was mad. Lunch was insane. He took a deep breath to regain his composure and turned to her. "No problem. I assume Yamcha is going to join us."

Bulma gave him a shy smile. "He'll be there in two hours or so."

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	19. 18 Shooting Day - Part 1

_Better late than never. I guess. Nancy, thank you for your dedicated support._

* * *

 **Chapter 18 - Shooting Day - Part 1**

Vegeta took a sip of his coffee and resumed his contemplation of the restless ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. He was standing on the terrace of the house looking down the shore. Up there, the ocean breeze was hardly enough to tame the heat of the bright sun shining in the sky. He truly enjoyed the sight.

The Saiyan land was nothing like this. The whole country was bordered by chains of steep mountains and the only water you could find there was Pickle, a large river running through Vegitasei and fraying into countless brooks. Anyone hoping to have a glance at the see had to go past the Mountains. North or West, you would land into the Ice-Jinn Empire and you would still need to travel north a day or two before finding the Ice Ocean. It was an endless pool stuck in ice most of the time - Really nothing like a free and wild ocean. South and East, you could reach the Paranga See beyond the Namekian's land. The Namekians were rather primitive people. Their lives in the mountains were harsh. The soil there was so reluctant to produce anything that the Saiyans had never bothered trying to conquer their territories. Paranga See had been named after a Namekian legendary demon and it matched fairly its rocky shore harassed by constant nagging winds. Vegeta wasn't even sure if anyone took the risk to sail in there. Either way, there was no point in doing so with no proper harbor to reach and no business to make in this wild area. Thus, Vegeta had never enjoyed the sight of a real see before he exiled from his native land which happened quite late in his life, and although he felt no sailor's soul whatsoever, he liked this indomitable side of nature.

He peered at his watch. It was almost ten already. The House was quiet and he suspected that the Heiress and her baseball player wouldn't get up before lunch. The Saiyan had stayed in his room the whole night and he couldn't say at what time they ended up going to sleep but in the morning he'd stumbled across a bunch of empty bottles in the dining room hinting that they'd spent most of their evening drinking there. Furthermore, when Vera came to clean the mess she had brought a single breakfast for Vegeta "according to Mrs Smith's instructions". So, it was pretty obvious that Bulma hadn't planned to be awake early enough for breakfast.

Up from the terrace where Vegeta stood a set of steps ran down through the rocks and to the beach meters below. Who would blame him for a little walk there?

He rested his cup on the guardrail and walked down the stony stairs. He needed at least ten minutes to reach the sandy ground bordering the sea. The beach wasn't very large but it was very long forming a path along the ocean up to other cottages standing at the shore. As much as he could see the beach kept running to the town which might represent a good hour of walk. He headed that direction without a second thought.

After five minutes he was sweating under the sly warmth of the sun and cursing about the sand sneaking up into his shoes. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The white neat garment had turned into a crumpled damp mess already and he gave up struggling the particles of sand dusting his leather shoes. While walking further he kept gazing at the high rocks towering the beach. The settings were definitely perfect for Goku. The view was clear and the rocks were ideal hideouts. Even the bright light of the sun and the deep blue sky would help snatch amazing pictures.

Vegeta didn't need to make his way very far before he detected a move among the rocks. As he came closer he wasn't surprised to make out Goku's figure in the stony landscape. The Saiyan climbed up to him.

"Vegeta, nice from you to come and visit me. Are you on a break?" Goku greeted him.

"Sort of," Vegeta panted as he joined his coworker, "they're still asleep and I don't think they will wake up before lunch."

The taller reporter had settled his stuff in a recess carved in a boulder. His spot allowed him a rather comfortable sit. "So? How is it going? I had Lunch on the phone yesterday night. Still good so far?" he asked.

"So far," Vegeta grunted. He'd grabbed the camera Goku had brought with him and was studying with an expert's eye the device his teammate had picked up.

Goku had his hand shielding his eyes from the dazzling sun as he was watching the amazing sight the ocean and the beach were offering. "They can't miss a little walk on the beach hand in hand, can they?" he wondered thoughtfully.

"I'd say they'd do that, but Bulma Briefs is something unpredictable," Vegeta stated.

Goku turned to him with a stern face. "Well, make her predictable then. We're almost done, Veg. Keep in mind how much Pilaf will pay for those pictures. Especially with the pictures I took of Yamcha on top of it. "

Vegeta frowned. "Don't you think I don't know that already? I'm the one bearing with this berserk 24 hours a day," he spat. "Still…"

Goku cocked his head in wariness. "Still, what?"

Vegeta sighed and rested Goku's camera back into the recess. "I discovered something strange yesterday," he resumed.

Goku leaned forward to listen to him more carefully. For some reasons, Vegeta had a second thought about telling him about the hospital. He wasn't quite sure if this could be relevant to their job.

"We went to the hospital. She visited someone there and it happened to be her personal assistant," he explained with an hesitant voice.

"Well. It makes sense. Giada told us the Capsule hired a bunch of temporary secretaries to replace Briefs' personal secretary because she was sick," Goku shrugged.

"She's not sick. She's in coma due to her being shot instead of the Heiress," Vegeta added.

Goku pursed his lips and kept quiet for a while, mulling over this new fact. "You mean there had been a first attempt on Briefs' life before someone tried to shoot Yamcha and her?"

Vegeta nodded.

"Odd we never heard of that before but what does it change?" Goku asked after a while.

Vegeta felt awkward at the question. He thrust his hands in his pocket and drifted his eyes to the see. "I don't know. It's weird, don't you think? Someone clearly signed a contract on Briefs' head after all and I wonder why. She's only a business woman with a scientist's brain."

"I assume money can be a very good reason to want her dead. It's very likely that all this crap is about business," Goku suggested.

Vegeta shrugged, his eyes still on the restless waves. "Maybe. Pilaf said her business was clean though. I don't know much about business but I know a lot about killers and I can't help but think that this is nothing near business men's methods."

"What do you have in mind then?" Goku asked with puzzlement.

Vegeta turned to him and contemplated his questioning face. "I don't know," he repeated, "Maybe there's something lying behind that matter. I mean something more interesting than her lame romance with the baseball player."

Goku stood up and patted his shoulders with a mischievous smile. "Are you having a fit of qualms? I hope you're not having a thing for her. You know how unprofessional it would be, don't you?"

Vegeta slapped his friendly hand away. "Don't start talking nonsense. You speak like Lunch sometimes," he barked. "We're ahead of schedule for Pilaf's assignment, so I was wondering if we could dig up something more serious than - Huh, drop it."

Goku chuckled and sat back on his stoned seat. "You're on edge, man. Don't worry, it will be over soon. If we make it today, you can resign by tomorrow. Then the Heiress can deal on her own with the mysterious killer. She has much better means than a single Saiyan to do it, believe me."

Vegeta considered the taller reporter sitting casually and enjoying the sun with his can of coffee and magazines. Goku was more than confident, the cheer in his voice could vouch for that. Maybe he was right after all. The pictures would earn them a pretty pack of dough. Why bother further?

"Whatever. I have to go," Vegeta stated. "I'll make my best to suggest them a nice walk in that direction."

Goku waved at him and grabbed a magazine as the Saiyan climbed down back to the beach. Vegeta stumbled across the uneven ground and cursed as he reached the sand. The damn shoes didn't fit the least to walk there. By the time he was back to the terrace, he was soaked with sweat and he could feel salt and sand stuck on his skin.

He went straight to his room and took a shower. When he was done and back in the living room he found Yamcha sitting on the sofa and watching TV. The baseball player turned to him and gave him a smile while switching the Tv on mute. "Hey, Vegeta. How are you doing?"

The Saiyan stood in front of the couch and thrust his hand in his pocket. "Fine. Is she up?"

"She'll be here in a minute," Yamcha replied. "Could you - Can I ask you your opinion about something?"

His voice sounded hesitant and Vegeta felt he was about to confess something personal. Deep down his mind, the Saiyan had no will to know what it was about. Yet, it could be something useful for the job, so he did his best not to frown and just sat next to him. "Of course. If I can be of any help."

Yamcha was toying nervously with the remote control and he needed a moment before he brought himself to speak. "I - I don't know much about Bulma. I mean, we're dating and having a serious relationship but - being her body guard, you know how secretive she is and she still keeps me apart from a large side of her life. It bothers me."

As he was remembering the pictures Goku had snapped of Yamcha and another girl just two days ago, Vegeta felt like replying that Yamcha was also keeping her apart from a side of his life. Instead of that he gave a stern nod to show he understood him.

Yamcha blinked and resumed. "She told me that we couldn't go public unless we were willing to make things official. That is marrying."

Vegeta couldn't help but to raise his eyebrows in astonishment. "Do you intend to propose her?"

Yamcha bit his lips and looked down in embarrassment. "Maybe. I was wondering. What would you do in my place? What do you think of it?"

The Saiyan gaped. Damn, he hadn't figured that out. He assumed that the single fact that Yamcha needed reassurance about his project was a proof that it was a bad idea, but Vegeta had to admit that he didn't know much about engagement. He'd been engaged once when he was about 15. He'd never talked to his fiancée, one of Freezer's distant cousin, and his betrothal's day had ended in blood as it had been the day he'd turned against the Ice Family. Vegeta was aware it was nothing near a normal wedding's project and it couldn't count as a serious experience in that matter.

"Do you think she would accept my offer?" Yamcha insisted as Vegeta was still musing about the best answer.

The Saiyan shrugged. "I don't know her that much. I can't say."

Yamcha had a sheepish smile and sighed. "I'll give it a try. I no longer bear with this hectic life."

Vegeta studied his thoughtful face for a while. He wondered if the baseball player was ogling on the Heiress' fortune. After all, he was in big need for money. However, in that case, why not just propose her instead of having a second thought and asking Vegeta?

"You should take her for a walk on the beach," the Saiyan resumed.

Yamcha looked up at him with questioning eyes. Vegeta smirked. "She'll like it. I went down there. It's a romantic place. Maybe you'll find your answer there."

The baseball player gave him a grateful peer. "You're right. It's exactly the kind of thing she'll appreciate."

"Just take care to head for the town. It's safer that way, I checked it out."

Yamcha frowned as Vegeta's suggestion sounded like a reminder of a sniper possibly lurking around. "Safe? You think someone could try to attack us on that beach?"

Of course. Vegeta was tempted to tell him there was no better place to hide for a sniper than the rocky beach but he smiled instead. "That's why I'm here. Don't worry. It will be all right."

Yamcha nodded but the Saiyan could still see a glimpse of fear in his eyes.

"Morning guys," the Heiress interrupted them as she entered the living room. She froze and watched them for a moment. "Are you plotting something behind my back?"

"Of course not," Yamcha claimed with a professional liar's voice, "The cook is fixing lunch for now, so why not have a little walk on the beach by the time he's done?"

Bulma's features eased at the offer and delight shone through her face. "What a nice romantic idea," she murmured by cupping Yamcha's face between her palms and peeking his lips.

Vegeta stood up and walked out on the terrace, unwilling to witness more of their intimacy. Everything was working out very well, he thought to himself. Yet, for some reasons something in his mind told him otherwise.

"Mr Ouji, we won't need you for that," Bulma's voice stated behind his back.

He frowned and peeked at her over his shoulder. "I'll stay at a reasonable distance Ms Briefs," he replied by containing his annoyance.

She was now standing in the door frame with a scowl upon her face. "I told you it won't be necessary," she repeated.

"I told you I'll follow you from afar. These are Shienhan's orders," he insisted with a more demanding voice.

Yamcha showed up behind Bulma and wrapped his arms around her waist. "He's just doing his job, honey. I promise you'll forget about him in no time," he purred lovingly in her ear.

She looked up at him. "But -" He silenced her with a kiss and Vegeta knew the deal was done. The Saiyan was amazed at the way a smart woman like Bulma Briefs would let a total loser like Yamcha overcome her usual wariness. He was lying to her too and Vegeta wondered if she really believed his sweet words. The reason why she behaved so differently when he was around was beyond Vegeta but it gave him an odd taste of waste.

It was none of his business either way since, as Goku had reminded it, he would certainly resign by the next day. So, he contented himself with following them from afar as they climbed down the stony stairs down to the beach.

The sun was now high in the sky as it was nearly noon and the dazzling light was reflecting on the tireless waves of the ocean. The breeze was a blessing helping enduring the heat.

When he reached the sand, Vegeta considered the high rocks towering the beach and instinctively checked out his gun stuck in his belt. As a matter of fact, this place was perfect for a sniper's watch.

Just like he'd promised, the Saiyan remained far behind the lovers. He was trying his best not to pay attention to what they were doing. He decided Goku was the one in charge up from the moment Vegeta had them heading the right direction. The reporter was of course nowhere in sight but Vegeta could feel him around.

The Saiyan took a cigarette out of his pocket and fought the wind to light it properly. He stared at the see for a while. A ship was cruising in the distance. It was some sort of yachts certainly owned by some of the rich people living in the splendid houses along the shore. After a while, Vegeta realized he'd got lost in his thoughts and Bulma and Yamcha had moved on further on the long beach. As much as he could see, they were kissing and that meant Goku was having a feast on his table. Against all odds, Vegeta felt no glee at this prospect. Yet, he should because it was somehow his victory too. He'd tracked down the target, he'd trapped her and he caught her eventually. However, instead of pride, a slight disgust was nagging at his guts. Maybe it was time for him to move on. He would take the money and go to something else than this job.

Truth to be told, Vegeta had never considered it like a real job and he hadn't intended to accept Pilaf's offer after Frieza's fall. He'd caved in because of Kakarott, or Gokû since it was now his real name. Damn him. Vegeta had to admit he'd been fascinated by him from their first encounter. At first, he'd been hit by his unexpected look. There was little doubt to Vegeta that Goku was Saiyan. When he'd asked Goku back at the time they first met, Goku had laughed and denied such origin, telling he came from Mount Paozu but Vegeta knew better. He'd been the Prince of Vegitasei once and he was still able to recognize his people. A lot of families had sent their younger brats away at the time war broke out and Goku might have been one of them as his age fit the theory. Furthermore, Goku was Bardock's perfect lookalike. His strength, his frame and his face spoke volume. Beside this underlying brotherhood, Vegeta felt somehow familiar with Goku's spirit. Goku was a fighter and, although he sounded cheerful and kind, he couldn't bear with being defeated, no matter the battlefield. He never gave up. Vegeta didn't like him but he had realized that the dumbass was the thrill he needed to keep going on in this lame civilized city-life where everything was a piece of cake. It had been the main reason why Vegeta had accepted to work for the blue dwarf.

Another reason had been that Freeza's fall had left the former Prince facing a harsh reality. There was no more war going on. There was nothing left to fight for and there was no longer an army to welcome him. He still had to live further though and he could no longer ignore the fact that he had to find his place in this world by now.

As a matter of fact, his job at Snapshot had happened to be a rather nice middle way between his former and actual lives. It was a way to fit into the civil life all by nursing his nostalgia for his former life. His hunts had always been good opportunities to use his soldier's skills even if the job could hardly provide him the adrenaline of a battlefield. Or so he'd believed until that exact moment on the beach. Unease was twisting his guts as the lovers were unknowingly exposing themselves to Goku's eager shooting.

Vegeta was startled by a thrilling noise resounding in his pocket. He needed an instant to realize it was his phone ringing - the Capsule's phone. The Saiyan pulled it out and stared at it in disbelief. He'd never used it so far. He picked up the call and recognized Shienhan's voice on the go. "Where are you?"

Vegeta wiped the sweat beading on his forehead and sighed. "On the beach down the house. They wanted to go for a walk there before lunch. "

"Take them back inside," Shienhan's voice urged. "A suspicious guy had been reported lurking in the neighborhood. We have to check that out for now but I don't want to take any chance."

Vegeta's heart raced. Someone had spotted Goku's presence. Damn moron. "How serious is that?" Vegeta asked.

"Serious enough. Yamcha is planned to leave after lunch already in order to keep him safe. I can't join you right now but Chaozu will be there by the end of the afternoon to give you a hand watching the house. I'll pick her up in the night with a car," Shienhan explained.

Vegeta rubbed his eyelids in weariness. "Man, this is war. She won't like it," he stated.

Shienhan kept quiet at that. The saiyan considered all this like unnecessary mess and he was cursing Goku for being stupid enough to get caught. "I'll call her. Keep your eyes wide open," Shienhan resumed. Then he hung up with no further order.

Vegeta frowned and glared at the phone. He looked up at the couple, slowly heading back to him. He prayed that Goku had at least been successful at snapping serious photos because spending the whole afternoon locked up alone with the Heiress was a hell of an annoying prospect.

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


	20. 19 Shooting Day - Part 2

**Chapter 19 - Shooting Day - Part 2**

A slight noise made Vegeta look up from his book. The Heiress was leaning against the door frame of the kitchen and staring at him. His eyes focused at once on the gun stuck in the belt of her jeans and the detail caused his instant frown. "What do you think you're doing with such toy?" he snapped.

She blinked. "I thought you'd know what these toys were made for," she retorted with a shrug.

He sighed and closed his book. "It's dangerous to have one when you don't know how to use it properly," he stated.

She glared at him. "I know how to use it, what do you think?"

He watched her in disbelief as she headed for the fridge with no other comment. They were both alone in the house since Yamcha had left in the early afternoon. A taxi had picked him up just like Shienhan had said. Bulma had bitched a lot back from the beach when Vegeta had explained that her sweet plans were to change for safety reason, but then Shienhan had called her. The Saiyan had no clue what he told her but since then, her mood had turned to a concerned quietness. She'd locked herself in her room as soon as Yamcha was gone and the Saiyan hadn't heard of her during the whole afternoon. Yet, now she was wandering with a gun by her side. All this left him quite puzzled.

With no mean to reach Goku, Vegeta had feared that his partner would get caught and the pictures lost. However, it was now early evening and Shienhan hadn't called to say things were under control while Goku was supposed to be away from Paprika Bay, so Vegeta assumed that everything had run out smoothly in the end.

"What did Shienhan tell you?" he asked Bulma as she sat at the table next to him with a plate full of food.

"He said we were endangered," she mumbled without giving him the slightest glance.

He raised an eyebrow. "Huh. I thought you didn't believe in danger," he pointed out.

She looked up at him with flaring eyes. "I said I didn't need a bodyguard," she spelled out coldly while pulling nervously a lock behind her ear.

He smirked at her. She was somehow trying to behave fearless and he found that quite amusing. "It seems you need one though," he noted.

She pursed her lips and tilted her head. "We'll see," she replied.

As she went back to her meal, he realized she would definitely never admit her defeat. "Don't you ever rely on anyone?" he asked.

"I rely on Tien. And on Chaozu. It sounds already a lot of people to me," she grunted.

He'd never seen her so harsh on her guards and for some reasons, he felt like teasing her. "And what about your baseball player? Don't you rely on him too?" he asked slyly.

She froze her gesture and her eyes drifted slowly from her plate to his face. He couldn't say if she was pissed by his words, or shocked that he dared to point out her oblivion of Yamcha. She squinted and swallow her food. "And what about you? How many people do you rely on?" she mumbled.

He was caught off guard by her counter attack. He didn't like when things slipped on his personal life and this point hadn't gone unnoticed by her. He frowned in annoyance. "I don't need to rely on anyone. I have no sniper tracking me down."

She shrugged with a smirk. "Huh. Your girlfriend would be happy to hear that, I guess."

He frowned as he needed a moment to remember the tale he'd made up to be able to call Lunch.

She sighed at his bewildered face. "I didn't mean to start an argument. I'm somewhat on edge right now. Yamcha proposed me on the beach," she resumed with a soft voice. "This damn alert screwed up everything."

Vegeta looked down at the table. He was stunned that the loser eventually had the guts to ask her for marriage, especially considering Goku had been able to trick him with a girl only a few days ago. It pained him somehow for the Heiress. She had money and fame but her personal life was a complete crap as a matter of fact. "Did you accept?" he asked before he knew it.

"Not yet. He doesn't know me enough to be aware of what he's bargaining for. Beside - Well, not yet," she answered hesitantly.

"But you will," Vegeta cut off. Once again his voice had been faster than his brain.

She kept silent and he raised his head to stare at her. She was watching him blankly with a thoughtful face. She was mulling over his statement. "I want… I would like to-" she stammered. She didn't end her sentence as a noise outside interrupted their talk.

A car had driven up the alleyway of the garden and just stopped at the front door. Chaozu's thrilling voice echoed from outside. Bulma stood up at once. An unexpected glee was shining through her features. "There he is," she exclaimed with a beam before rushing out of the room to the main door.

Vegeta rocked his chair backward on two legs as to watch through the window. A cab was parked in the alleyway and the figure of the little clown was standing next to it with a bag. The Saiyan sighed and he brought himself to stand up as well and join them outside.

He made his way to the porch and contemplated Bulma and Chaozu hugging like old friends. The short man let go of her and looked up at him. "Hey, friend, how are you?" he called.

"Fine," the Saiyan muttered.

Chaozu walked up to the porch while Bulma was leaning at the car's window in order to pay the driver.

Everything went on very quickly. As soon as he heard the first bang, Vegeta ducked instinctively to the ground and reached out for his gun. Yet, the shooting wouldn't stop and he had no opportunity to respond the sniper. All he could do was crawling behind the huge plant tub to seek shelters. He didn't see much. He heard the sound of the bullets meeting the metal of the car and the stone of the house's walls along with the glass of windows shattering. Yet, his only option was to crouch still with his head down and pray for the massive tub to be enough of a shield.

Like always he had the feeling that the shooting lasted very long but it had been actually less than a minute before the gunshot stopped. Then, everything was silent again. The Saiyan felt like he'd turned deaf all of a sudden. He'd lived such situation a hundred times in his life and it was something familiar for him and yet, he was somehow in shock. The Heiress wasn't Freezer nor any of the disreputable people Vegeta had got along with and he hadn't seen the danger coming.

Fortunately he was the quick type when it was about to collect his wits. He dared a peek through the branches. The little clown was down lying in a pool of blood. Meters further, the Heiress was sitting on the ground with her back against the cab. The car was a wreck and the Saiyan could make out the driver's head ducked down on the wheel.

He focused back on Bulma. She was motionless, her knees tightly pressed against her chest and her blank eyes glued to Chaozu's body. Vegeta crawled out of his hideout.

He was able to sneak up to the Heiress in a rush and squatted down next to her. "Are you all right?" he grumbled in a low voice. She turned numb eyes to him and gave him a slight nod. She pointed her finger at Chaozu, her mouth ajar and unable to utter a word.

The Saiyan peeked at him but didn't say anything. The little man was still and unmoving. Vegeta checked his gun and unlocked the security. He went to Bulma's weapon as well but as he grabbed it she grasped his hand. "I can do that," she murmured, "what about the driver?"

Vegeta lifted himself just enough to give a quick glimpse at the man. His head was a bloody mess and the sight was clear enough to wipe any hope about his state. "He didn't make it," he grunted.

"We have to take Chaozu in a safe place," she resumed.

The Saiyan considered the body of the little clown. He wasn't sure Bulma's idea was worth the danger but he needed her to keep a cool head and forcing her to leave her friend behind wouldn't help on that matter. "I'll take care of that. I go first," he claimed.

He ran to the body with his head down, expecting a new assault, but nothing happened. He turned around and scrutinized the settings. The small trees were dancing in the breeze and everything was peaceful. No shooting, no one in sight. He didn't lose more time and grabbed Chaozu before rushing back into the House. He rested the little man on the floor of the hallway and found out Bulma had joined them already. "How is he?" she asked, her voice tinged with a deep concern.

The Saiyan studied the injured man. A bullet had reached the point where his shoulder met his neck, another one had hit the hip and a last one, less worrying, had ended in a calf. It was a bloody mess and Chaozu's breathing was so weak that Vegeta was pretty sure he wouldn't make it unless a well equipped medical staff showed up within the minute.

"Let's carry him to the sofa," Bulma suggested.

Vegeta obliged wordlessly but he did it mostly for her reassurance. As soon as the little guy was resting on the couch she knelt on the ground next to him and started to unbutton his shirt. Vegeta left her to her hopeless and yet much needed attempt to help her friend. He considered the large window pane opening on the terrace at the back of the house. There were too many windows in that damn house. He didn't like it. What he liked even less was the stillness that followed the unexpected shooting. It was quite obvious to him that the sniper had willingly let them flee back to the house and this acting didn't match a determined killer.

"We have to call for help. Where is your phone?" Vegeta asked Bulma.

She turned to him, her face frozen in realization. "I broke it during the shooting. What about yours?" she asked in a hopeful whisper.

The Saiyan repressed a frustrated grunt. "Well, mine can only call Shienhan. Let's give it a try."

He took his emergency cell out of his pocket and dialed the sole registered number. Bulma's chief of security answered at the first ring.

"We're in trouble there," the Saiyan explained at once, "we're in the house and the sniper is lurking outside. He shot Chaozu and the taxi driver."

Silence answered his speech at first. Then, Shienhan's low voice replied. "How is Chaozu?"

"Not so fine. Injured. The driver is dead. We're stuck in there and -" He had no time to speak further as a vase exploded just a few centimeters from him. He threw himself back to the ground and waited for more shooting. Yet, nothing more happened. He glanced at Bulma. She had flattened herself to the floor as well and was giving him a helpless gaze.

He pressed the phone back to his ear. "I don't know what he's up to but hell, you have to get us out of here, Shienhan!" he groaned. The line was off. He frowned and cursed while dialing the number again. The phone was dead though. "Fuck," he hissed.

Just at that moment a series of bullets studded the wall above them. The shooting ran all along the length of the room causing a rain of fragments on their head. He heard Bulma's muffled yelp as he lowered his head down again.

When the weapon shut up at last, the only sound in the room was the Heiress weak sob. Vegeta watched her. She had her hands clasped on her head and she was trembling. "Bulma!" he called.

She didn't react. It was no wonder. She was in total shock. The Saiyan looked up at the broken window pane and wondered where the sniper was now. It seemed he had gone around the House as to place himself on the beach's side while they were dragging Chaozu inside. He was obviously playing with them. He was playing cat and mouse. Much funnier than a simple bullet right in the head.

"Bulma," he called once again with a soft voice. She raised her eyes and met his. He stretched his hand out to her. "Come to me," he whispered.

She closed her eyes in refusal releasing tears in the process. Her hair was dusted with pieces of plaster and she was still holding her head as a way to deny the scary reality.

"He can't reach you as long as you crawl. If he could, he would have killed us already," Vegeta explained in a soothing voice.

She opened her eyes and stared at him again. He could see his rational speech had allowed her brain out of its numbness. She nodded and crept slowly in his direction. As soon as she was in reach, he grabbed her hand and pulled her the rest of the way to him.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and forced her to crawl further to the hallway. It was the safer room for now. There was no window there except for the small glass adorning the main door which had turned into a square hole due to the first shooting.

Bulma sat straight on the ground and leaned her back against the wall. She wiped her tears away with her sleeves. "What do we do, now? Is Tien on his way?" she murmured.

Vegeta was sitting in front of her. He was relieved to see her panic cooling down. "We can't stay here. He'll end up coming into the house and we'll be trapped."

She raised her eyebrow in fear but she nodded meekly anyway.

"Do you have the key of the car?" he resumed.

"In the kitchen," she whispered.

He turned around and crept on all four into the kitchen. The keys were in a pot on the counter. He had no trouble catching them but as soon as he moved down to the ground, bullets were shot straight through the broken window. Vegeta gritted his teeth. How the hell could the sniper make his way around the house so fast? Obviousness stroke him as his mind formulated the question. There were more than one sniper. That was bad.

He hurried back into the hallway. Bulma was watching him with fearful eyes. "Are you injured?" she panted.

"I'm fine. Now, I need you to listen to me. We really need to leave this place. We'll have to cross the garden to the gate where our car is."

He observed her face as he dreaded her to lose her mind at that prospect but she just gave a firm nod. He'd faced civilian people caught in fire back at the time when he was a soldier. More often than not, they were going crazy with fear and it always ended in crap. Yet, she seemed to hold on so far.

"There's a side door in the kitchen," she said all of a sudden. "Nobody uses it anymore but we might be able to force it open, what do you think?"

He mulled over her suggestion for a moment. He noted that daylight was almost completely gone outside. "Switch on the lights in the hallway and in the living room," he ordered.

She frowned. "Why?"

"That way, he won't be able to see much in the kitchen's darkness and he won't spot our move there until we're done. Can you do that and join me in the kitchen without him noticing?" he whispered, speaking of the snipers as a a single person to avoid scaring her even more.

She gazed hesitantly at the living room's entrance. Beyond the door frame the place had turned into a wrecked battlefield. They were both well-aware that her mission was risky and he wondered if she would have the guts to accept.

She sighed. "I'll do it."

They turned on the light in the hallway first. Then she crawled carefully into the living room while Vegeta headed to the kitchen. It wasn't long before he heard a series of bang echoing in the living room. He tried his best not to pay attention to it in order to focus on the side door. It was old and rather tiny. He needed to move a small table to have access to it. All this was quite complicated because his acting had to stay unnoticed and although the light in the hallway was helping the shadows in the kitchen, he had no doubt the sniper in the front garden was watching.

The lock was rusty and a key made of flaky iron was stuck in it. At first, Vegeta thought he wouldn't make it. The whole mechanism had been out of use for so long that the key wouldn't move. On top of it, he had to be careful not to break it. Against all odds, the triggers of the lock eventually caved in, just when Bulma showed up, crawling on all four.

"It's all right. Take the keys of the car," he told her when she came closer to him.

She did as she was told and they stood still for an instant. He glanced at her over his shoulder and she gave him a helpless smile in return to let him know she was as ready as she would ever be.

He cracked the door open and they found out a huge bush had grown up just behind it, providing a perfect hideout for their exit. It looked like a good sign to them. They sneaked out the house and walked along the wall of the house as silently as possible. Another fire echoed aiming straight at the house. The sniper hadn't spotted them in the garden but his move allowed Vegeta to locate him. He'd settled up in a tree with branches wide enough to be used as support for the guy and his automatic riffle.

Vegeta froze and forced Bulma to stop behind him as well. He pointed his finger at the sniper and beckoned her to stay where she was.

Stealing in the growing shadow of the greenery bordering the garden the Saiyan rushed swiftly closer to the killer, his gun in his fist. The sound of the bullets shooting across the house facade helped him go unnoticed until he deemed to be close enough. He aimed at the man perched in the tree and pulled his trigger without a second thought.

He heard muffled yelps as the guy tumbled down the tree, breaking branches along the way. When his body hit the ground in a loud thud, Vegeta walked to him with his gun still pointing at him. The Saiyan hadn't missed that the riffle had landed a few meters away from his owner, but it was still too close to Vegeta's taste.

When he came to towering the man lying on the ground, he realized that his target was still conscious and staring at him with wide blue eyes. The bullet had met him somewhere in the ribs and he had also certainly been injured by the fall.

He was motionless and yet the Saiyan was somehow disturbed by the cold determination in his eyes. There wasn't a tiny bit of fear in his blue orbs contemplating the gun pointed at him. Vegeta had already seen that guy somewhere but he couldn't remember where.

The guy's lips stretched in an unexpected smirk. "Nice shot."

Vegeta had indeed intended to have him more seriously injured - If not killed, at least knocked out - and he felt annoyed at his mocking tone. "Shut up. I would be too pleased to make an even nicer shot right now. Can you sit?"

The guy sighed and sat up with a baffling ease despite his bloody side. He repressed a grimace and massage his aching ribs. "I think so," he sighed.

A voice was screaming in Vegeta's head. He should just kill him, he knew. Something wasn't right with the bastard. Beside the second sniper wouldn't be long to realize something was on and come to this side of the house. Yet, the Heiress wasn't far behind hiding in the shadows and he wasn't sure how she would react seeing him kill an unarmed, injured man. Best was to knock him out with his gun's butt.

He raised his arm, but he had no time to do anything else. Before he knew it, the man jumped on his feet, one of his fist grabbing Vegeta's wrist while the other one punched him right in the stomach. The Saiyan doubled over both in pain and surprise and let go of his gun. He was granted a powerful kick in the chest and lost his balance.

He muffled a grunt as he hit the ground. He found himself sitting on the ground and panting in an attempt to catch his breath. He cursed himself for ignoring his instinct. He should have killed that damn bastard in the very first place, because as far as he could remember Vegeta had never faced someone as fast and as resilient as that asshole.

The Saiyan glared up at his opponent. The killer had picked up the Saiyan's gun. He was still smirking, his black silky locks hardly ruffled by the effort. Quite stupidly something lit up in Vegeta's brain at this very moment. He'd met the guy at the boring party the first night he'd played bodyguard for the Heiress. The man had said he was a bodyguard too and they had chatted a brief moment.

"No kidding. Let me show you what a nice shot is," the sniper chuckled while aiming at Vegeta's face.

The Saiyan couldn't help but close his eyes in wait for the final sound of his life. Yet, the bang he heard was followed by the thud of a body tumbling down.

He opened his eyes at once. The killer had collapsed and was lying unmoving with a trickle of blood running down from a hole in his temple and along his cheekbones. The Saiyan turned stunned eyes to the Heiress standing a few meters away with her gun still pointing in their direction.

She blinked with a slight frown. She opened the mouth as if on the verge to say something but no word came out of her lips. Vegeta lost no time and took the gun out of the dead man's grip.

The Saiyan's instinct urged him to leave this place. Another sniper was lurking around. He struggled to his feet and caught Bulma's wrist as to drag her away to the gate where their car was parked.

Before he knew it, he was running and oblivious of the Heiress having a hard time to keep up with his pace. She didn't complain though. She was panting and stumbling but somehow, it seemed the adrenaline running through her veins helped her cope with their crazy runaway.

The gate was wide open and they both jumped in the car without a word. Bulma didn't even argue when Vegeta sat behind the wheel. The engine roared to life and the car rushed through the gate out of the garden and onto the road in a loud screech of tires.

 **ooo0ooooo0ooo**


End file.
